


Hard Drives and Heartbeats

by Ara_Sigyrn (AraSigyrn), deannawol



Series: Friday Night Firefight - Bad Nights and Big Cities [8]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Cyberpunk, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 160,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AraSigyrn/pseuds/Ara_Sigyrn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/deannawol/pseuds/deannawol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you’re on top of the world, the only way is down.  </p>
<p>Against all the odds, Adam ‘Silverfyre’ Lambert and Kris ‘Juniper’ Allen not only survived the job of a lifetime, they completed it.  Rich, successful and freshly moved to NYC, they're on top of the world.  They’ve done the impossible and lived to tell the tale but what comes next? </p>
<p>Is there life after ‘happily ever after’?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Authors Notes:** This has been an epic experience. Working together has been fantastic. When we started discussions on a possible sequel to Silver Bullets, we weren't sure how it was going to go and in every discussion, we kept trying to have the characters follow the trope of get together, fight, break up, get back together, but these boys are stubborn to the core and they had their own story to tell. We just hope you like it.
> 
> Also, we'd just like to thank Chosenfire for her gorgeous artwork. You should go [here](http://chosenfire28.livejournal.com/263592.html) and tell her how awesome it is. Comments are love.

  
  


 

 

* * *

 

 

Kris ducked behind the couch, taking the opportunity to catch his breath and assess his strategy. His heart was beating fast, the first beads of sweat sticking his shirt to his back. The outlook was grim and standard tactics hadn't worked. Oh well, Kris smiled in the shadows. He still had a few non-standard tactics left.

"Gotcha now!"

Fuck. Kris dived sideways, taking shameless advantage of his opponent's bigger size to dart out the other side of the couch. The large _heavy_ couch that was normally three inches closer to the wall. It was just enough space for Kris to push through but the couch was luxurious, decadent leather over a solid frame that weighed more Kris did. He dodged the hand that grabbed for him. He only had a few seconds; the door impossibly far away. He dived forward instead: bounced off the armrest: vaulted himself over the couch to tackle his opponent. Surprise and velocity gave him just enough of an edge to roll them both into a tangle of limbs. There was a mad scramble as they wrestled and rolled around. Kris was ruthless but no match for his opponent's quicker reflexes.

Time to play dirty. Kris wriggled sideways, opening just enough space between them to slide his fingers down, just under the ribs and-

"Fuck! Stoppit!" The lean body under him convulsed, swatting helplessly at his hands.

"Surrender!" Kris giggled, holding his place with his knees.

"Ack, fine, fine! I surrender! Just stop- _stop_ tickling me!"

One last teasing brush of his fingers and Kris relented, sitting up. His elbow banged against the coffee table, sending a cascade of paper fluttering to the floor.

"Ow, crap!" Kris rubbed his elbow, "And, uh, oops?"

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and turned a sheepish smile to the unimpressed merc under him. Adam was attempting to scowl despite the smile tugging at the corner of his lips and Kris relaxed a little. Adam's hand came to rest on his hip, thumb rubbing up over the bone and Kris shrugged, a little embarrassed.

"It's not a big deal," Adam said after a moment, like Kris didn't already know. "It's just a contact."

Kris laughed at that. "Just a contract, Mr. What-if-they-don't-like-me?"

He pitched his voice up into a warbling falsetto that made Adam growl and spill Kris off with an affronted tilt of his hips. It was a perfectly controlled move, despite the mock-offense and Kris rolled easily to settle on his knees. Another reminder that for all that Adam could break him like a twig, the worst injuries Kris had ever taken at Adam's hands were inconveniently shaped bruises from the night before.

Kris shook his head. They’d been living together for nearly eight months now but no matter how many times Adam proved he wasn’t Choppah, Kris still flinched more often than not. Adam never called him on it. Clearing his throat, Kris gathered up the papers, not bothering to keep them in order. They were mostly red scribbles by now anyway. He raised his eyebrows at Adam. "Was there anything in the contract that you _didn't_ object to?"

Adam tipped his head thoughtfully. "I liked the photographer they wanted for the album cover."

Kris cracked up again and Adam beamed smugly up at him. Sprawled out with his head propped against the sinfully comfortable leather couch, Adam didn't look like one of the most dangerous guns-for-hire in the greater continental North American States. Here, safe at home, he could just be Adam but there were still, to Kris' knowledge, at least six guns, five combat knives, one grenade and a coil of monowire carefully stowed less than a foot away from him.

Really, Kris thought as he looked at his boyfriend and smiled, even here and now Adam was as much Silverfyre as he was just plain Adam Lambert. Eyeliner and glittering blue/silver eye shadow made the blue in his eyes even more vivid and the fitted jeans and t-shirt were almost enough to distract Kris' attention.

Kris still didn't understand, however gratefully he accepted, how someone like Adam could want a relationship with a mousy little data runner like him. He was in decent shape, true but nothing like the sculpted perfection of even an average street merc dedicated to the motto of 'live fast, score big and die pretty'. He certainly wasn't going to win any fashion contests. Half a year ago, Kris had been living in a battered shoebox apartment in the infamous San D Gauntlet - one of the toughest ganglands in world - writing half-assed code for data runners too busy to do their own prep-work.

And five years before that... Kris shook his head reflexively. Another habit he hadn't broken yet. Even thinking about DEx and the end of his old life made him shiver. DEx was rebuilding at last, but slower and more careful. He, Root and SYS weren't as young or stupid as they had been five years before and this time, they had a lot more to lose.

Kris dumped the papers in a jumbled heap on the table. "So, what do you want on your pizza?"

"You are an evil, carb-enabling little man," Adam grumbled from the floor. "And I want chicken and BBQ."

"Extra cheese?" Kris snagged his phone from the couch. "And what about those little beef bits?"

"I am going to be fat," Adam complained. "And no-one will sign me and I'll die alone and unloved and fat."

"I promise I will love you," Kris leaned over to kiss Adam's cheek. "Even if you manage the physiologically impossible and get fat."

After eight months living together, Kris knew Adam's cyber-profile by heart; every single metal, silicon and biotechnical enhancements that made him literally superhuman. Those cybernetics made Adam faster, stronger and tougher than should have been physically possible but they required a lot of fuel to keep ticking over. Include the digestive nanite enzymes that most people had as standard and Adam could eat a hundred pizzas and be lucky to put on four pounds. In contrast, Kris' modest tally of neuro-processor, plugs and minor cyber-enhancements barely needed an extra thousand calories a day to keep running. Not that logic ever stopped a SilverfyreTM rant.

Adam pouted; Kris rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss him properly. He _meant_ it to be a light kiss, playful but Adam's fingers curled in his shirt and the kiss got deeper and the phone clattered to the ground. Even knowing that he had to be at _Idolize:NYC_ in the next couple of hours for another shift and with his stomach reminding him that they had never made it to the little deli that Kickstand recommended for lunch, Kris let himself be drawn in. He still ached a little from earlier even but as Adam's kiss turned into a leisurely exploration, Kris kissed him back.

The shrill beep from the security console on the wall just about gave them a joint heart attack. Kris twisted towards the sound, Adam's hand pressed against his back and the large-caliber handgun — that hadn’t been part of Kris’ earlier inventory – in his hand was pointing straight at the flashing LCDs. Amber - not red - flashing LCDs. That didn't make any sense. Amber indicated a potential threat rather an active one but Kris hadn’t had time to fine tune the parameters. All ‘potential threat’ mean was that whatever had sparked off the suite’s alarms wasn’t someone actually trying to break into the apartment. Kris counted the flashing lights; all five of them. That meant the security suite had flagged someone approaching with intent.

"What the fuck?"

"I don't know," Kris pushed himself up, Adam snagging his belt loop for a second and tugging him back so Adam was the first one to his feet. Kris tapped at the panel. He didn’t spend much time jacked in; thanks to the damage from the Trojan job, Kris’ online time was sharply limited. He hadn’t had a seizure for nearly three months and Nakamura had been making encouraging sounds about lifting those restrictions so Kris had decided to take the time to do so long overdue upgrades. His new deck was in the office/armory/spare room and his wrist-comp was still on the kitchen table in a hundred different pieces so of course he couldn't just ask what had the suite spooked. "And they can't tell me. I so need to fix that. All I can tell is it's not a direct threat or the lights would be red."

"Yes," Adam -no, _Silverfyre_ \- said dryly. "Your opinion of my tech-savvy aside, I do actually remember you telling me what the magic flashy lights meant."

"Amber is," Kris shook his head. "I have no idea what that means exactly. Just a general warning on whoever's in the elevator. I know _I_ didn't invite anyone over?"

Silverfyre looked down at him pointedly and Kris rolled his eyes. "Okay, yes. Of course you didn't invite anyone. You wanted to get laid, respect the sanctity of the booty call and all that."

" _Booty call_!?" Adam's lip curled disdainfully and he glowered down at Kris, momentarily distracted from the incoming threat. Kris bit back a giggle. "Okay, that's it. You are totally not allowed to hang out with Janice anymore."

Kris opened his mouth to argue – he hadn't learnt his valley-girl-isms from _Janice_ , after all - and there was a knock on the door. Silverfyre pressed a hand against his chest, urging him back before he crossed to the door, gun held just behind his back. Kris followed, careful to keep to Silverfyre's left and well clear of the gun's arc of fire. They had a brief, wordless argument. Adam lost, with very bad grace. Seriously though, Kris refused to believe an additional six feet across living room floor would stop anything capable of getting past Silverfyre so he might as well stay close.

There were five locks on their door. Kris' opinion on them varied from frustration (when it'd been a long night and Adam's hands were everywhere, the wall cool and unyielding against his back) to dread (when he woke up sweating with the last seconds of a nightmare dancing behind his eyelids). Right now, he was coming down on the dread side of the spectrum.

Silverfyre unsnapped the catches one by one. The fingers of his other hand were clenched on the grip of the gun. Kris let his hand rest against Silverfyre's back as the door opened.

Silverfyre moved before the door was all the way open, blocking Kris from view as he brought the gun up. Kris was expecting maybe a merc or a cop. Instead, he felt Silverfyre go stiff with shock and his finger lifted away from the trigger. Kris peered around him to see a tiny, lanky runner with greasy black hair hanging in his face and bruises under his eyes, clutching a single battered canvas duffle bag. The jacket was tattered, the right sleeve torn away completely and the dim lines of a dulled light tattoo traced a familiar pattern down towards the elbow.

"Frankie?"

"Hey man," Frankie waved the fingertips of his free hand, eyes on the barrel of the gun pointed in his face. "And it's Glitch in front of the meat-jockeys, remember?"

Adam snapped the safety on, expression sour and Kris shrugged. It could have been worse. He could have called Frankie ‘Root’.

An hour, a shower and four large pizzas later, Frankie - _Glitch_ , Kris corrected - was sitting on the sofa beside him. Adam puttered discreetly in the kitchen, far enough away to give the illusion of privacy but close enough that he could hear every word. Glitch looked like hell, too pale with dark circles under his eyes and looking maybe half a stone skinnier than he had been the last time Kris saw him in the meatspace.

"Okay, seriously," Kris said when Glitch swallowed the last crust of the Vegan-mantic extra-large. "What's happened?"

He was worried; not afraid, not yet. If there had been an immediate threat, Glitch would have gone off grid completely, raising the alarm. Kris would have known inside a minute that he needed to run. Together with SYS, they had spent a month building hundreds of triggers and fail-safes into a complex alert system after they'd agreed that DEx was overdue for a return.

"It's official," Glitch's fingers tapped a rapid beat on his leg. "Did you hear? They posted the bounty on every forum, every message board in California at 00:01 yesterday. There's, like, a million mercs already talking about taking the job. Even the gangers are all, wow, what would we do with that money? It's gone crazy. The whole 'Net is raging; I mean the flame wars alone are tripling network traffic around the city hubs."

  1. "We expected that."



"Yeah," Glitch's fingers skipped erratically across the sofa cushion between them. "I checked the numbers before I left. 98.04% match to the projections."

"SYS will be thrilled," Kris grinned and for a second Glitch's face contorted into a grimace that he probably meant to be a smile. Glitch looked away.

"Yeah," Glitch's other hand drummed against his leg. "She was pretty much on the fucking money, right down to the reporters on the case. Her projections were the right ones to pick. I wouldn't have done so well. My numbers are looking pretty fucking shitty, actually."

"Oh?" Kris leaned back against the sofa. Glitch was practically vibrating with tension now, feet twitching.

"I fixed the memory leak in the archive AI, by the way," Glitch's frenzied fingers slowed and he started to gesture, launching into a breathless monologue about the functions and the server-load algorithm. Kris listened with half an ear, most of his attention on the way Glitch's eyes skittered from the table to the security panel to the kitchen to the security panel to Adam's gun, cleaned and unloaded on the counter. "-should hold it."

"Frankie," Kris said as gently as possible. "What happened?"

"There's a guy looking for you," Glitch said finally. "Doesn't know your name exactly but he's looking for 'Fyre's runner on the Trojan job."

"A guy?" Kris' nails were digging into his palms hard enough to hurt. He could see Adam's shadow out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't come into the room but there was no doubt he was listening. "What sort of guy?"

"A street-merc. He's covered his tracks pretty well but I'm almost sure-" Glitch stopped and clenched his fists. "No, screw that. I _am_ sure his name is Crusader."

There was a barely audible growl from the kitchen but Glitch didn't notice, too focused on finally pouring out his heart. Kris took a second to be grateful Adam stayed in the damn kitchen; Glitch and Adam had gotten on okay the couple of times they’d met before but Adam was still mostly a stranger and a merc to boot. Glitch wouldn’t talk in front of him; none of DEx trusted strange mercs any more.

"He find you?"

"No," Glitch clipped the end off the word and his shoulders slumped. "But he found Killjoy."

"Killjoy as in _your boy Killjoy_?" Kris was surprised. It seemed out of character, but then he probably only knew Killjoy about as well as Frankie knew Adam. On paper, he'd spent nearly twice as much time with the guy as Glitch had spent with Adam. In practice, Kris had spent most of that time drugged to the gills while Nakamura tested him for whole new types of brain damage. Still, Kris remembered Killjoy as a scruffy dreamer and a bit of a flake with a hard core of steely professionalism when on the job. The worst thing Kris had heard about the guy was his over-reliance on combat drugs but that was true of most street mercs; average street punks weren’t as careful as Adam was. Killjoy was an addict, same as ninety-five percent of the mercs on the street. He and Glitch had been together three years, give or take a month and Kris had honestly thought they were happy.

"He's not my anything," Glitch snapped.

Ah. Fuck.

"What happened?" Kris repeated and Glitch sank back, tipping his head to stare up at the ceiling. His eyes were red and his eyelashes kept clumping together as he blinked slowly.

"We were talking jobs, looking for something to buy us some downtime so Killjoy could work on his music. Swear to God, he's been scheming ever since you guys got out here. He said that Silverfyre was going to bust the mould of merc-artists in the mainstream music industry and all this crap about subverting the paradigm. You know what he's like."

Kris, who had sat through a three hour rambling lecture on the political cult of cybernetic-enhancement because he’d been too drugged to move, nodded.

"And he had this plan," Glitch rubbed at his eyes. "I mean, fuck, he always had plans. We were going to be the world's most badass accountants once and there was the urban safari idea...the guy just never stopped coming up with plans. This one -well, I mean, it sounded practically sane compared to some of his shit! We were going to pick up a couple of top-dollar jobs, bank the money while he worked on music and wait for 'Fyre to break out. Then he was going to shop the demo, get signed and retire."

"Okay," Kris tucked his hands under his chin. "So far, so good. Hell, I've used worse plans than that."

"Yeah," Glitch snorted. "We had a meet, whole team and everything. A guy called out sick so I covered his sessions and I had to skip the meet. They came back, all drunk and shit and telling me that we're going to be millionaires. This guy has an awesome lead and we're totally going to be his back up. There'll be enough money to last us all the way through to Killjoy's big break; all that shit."

"What's the catch?"

"The fucking target, Hij-" Glitch caught himself a second too late. "Christ, I mean Juniper. Fuck."

"What was the target?" Kris ignored the slip. He knew the apartment was secure.

"We were. They fucking subcontracted to this jerk-off asshole who's hunting us. Apparently the guy has this _sick_ lead on DEx but he needs back up when he comes and kicks our door in."

Glitch snarled the last word and Kris swore.

"I kept them talking, you know? I mean, Jesus, these guys are family. I've known them since I moved to LA and I'm thinking, well, we're friends, yeah? So all I got to do is keep them from making any serious mistakes and spin them some bullshit trail, right? Then they can chase my Ghosts, DEx gets left alone, creepy asshole pays us to do it and everyone's happy! Ta-da! I'm a fucking _genius_."

"What changed your mind?" Kris asked carefully, scooting a little closer.

"You should have heard them," Glitch shook his head, back and forth. "They didn't just drink the Kool Aid, they were fucking main-lining it. All that fucking fed bullshit about how DEx was the reason the economy dipped, we're destroying capitalism, we're persecuting the corps."

He looked up when Kris gripped his shoulder. "They hate us. They really truly fucking hate us. I never fucking knew that anyone outside Corp Plaza hated us that much. Fuck's sake! We're the good guys! All these years and-"

Kris looped an arm around his shoulders and let Glitch crumple, burying his face against Kris' neck and sniffling. "Jesus, I'm so sorry."

Glitch swallowed. "It gets better. This guy - he's looking for you. Like I said he doesn't know your name - they kept talking about 'Jumper' or 'Jeeper' - but he's definitely looking for the guy who took the Trojan job with Silverfyre."

"That could just be coincidence," Kris pointed out. "It was obvious that DEx nuked Trojan. I mean, there's a thousand bystanders' videos of the display. Figuring out DEx was there...it's not exactly a leap."

"Maybe," Glitch said against his neck. "I wasn't sticking around to find out. The whole house is bugged. I'll pull the info from the feeds when I get the chance to set up my deck. I just...I couldn't stay."

"No," Kris agreed and Glitch heaved a rattling sigh, clinging for a second before sitting back and wiping his face. "Do you want to go back to San D?"

"Hell no," Glitch shook his head vigorously, nearly shaking them both off the sofa. "There's nothing back there anymore and, you know, I heard good things about the Big Apple."

Kris watched his expression shift and mentally backed off. Glitch was starting to flag which meant that he'd be out cold in the next five minutes; transitional states were things that happened to other people in Glitch's world. Kris would have to check Glitch's back trail but the odds that Glitch had left anything pointing to them were low. Still, better safe than sorry.

"We've got a spare room," Kris offered. "Three spare rooms actually but you probably want the one with the balcony."

"There's a balcony?" Glitch looked back over his shoulder. "Damn, Hijack, you've come up in the world."

"Juniper," Kris reminded him gently and Glitch punched him lightly in the arm.

"Jerk."

"Says the man crashing in _my_ spare room who just ate two pizzas that I ordered for him."

"I know," Glitch sobered. "And I really appreciate it."

"If you try to kiss me, I'ma punch you in the nuts," Kris smiled sweetly and Glitch actually laughed. "Seriously, go get some sleep, dude. I've got a shift tonight so you'll have the place to yourself."

"Wild party time!" The huge yawn spoiled the effect and Glitch swayed.

"Uh huh. C'mon party animal," Kris got his shoulder under Glitch's arm and half-carried him to the spare room. "Bedtime."

He got Glitch to bed and under the covers without much effort; back when they'd both been street kids living from paycheck to paycheck, Kris had hauled Glitch back to his seedy little flat more than once. As he stood to go, Glitch's hand snaked out to catch his left elbow. Kris went still for a second and Glitch's tattoo lit up in a swirl of orange and red. Kris' tattoo was a cool blue-green counter point and in the dark, it was easy to see the way the stylized patterns reflected each other.

"Sleep," Kris said, gently disengaging. "I got this."

Glitch muttered something and let himself slump back into bed. He was snoring almost before his head hit the pillow. Kris shook his head and smiled. Some things never changed.

Adam was waiting for him in the living room. The pizza boxes had already been tidied away and the gun was gone from the counter. Adam had his arms folded and he was frowning.

"You get him to bed okay?"

"Yeah," Kris sighed and leaned into Adam, closing his eyes as Adam hugged him. "He's already asleep. He'll be down for at least eight hours."

"Is it going to be okay?"

"Glitch was the only runner in the team," Kris shrugged. "If he's here, then there's nothing left to point here. He knows what he's doing."

"Is _he_ going to be okay?"

"Ask me next week."

"Right," Adam rested his chin on Kris' head, hugging him a little closer. "If I fill the tank on the way out of the city, I can be in San D by Friday evening. I have bullets I've been saving for Crusader. I mean, you remember Crusader right?"

"Yeah," Kris remembered Crusader, a street merc with more ambition than ability. He'd only met the guy once, when Crusader had tried to recruit him for the Trojan job the day after he met Adam. Unlike Adam, Crusader's idea of negotiation was sticking a gun in Kris' face after torturing two kids to death to find him. "I gotta say, I thought he was..."

"Dumber than a shipping container of hammers?" Adam finished. "Yeah. Connecting the dots like that? No way Crusader's that smart."

"You might be underestimating him," Kris pointed out. "I mean, everyone knew DEx was part of the Trojan job which was totally my fault. If I'd remembered to scrub the subroutines from my ikon before I wiped the systems-"

"-Everyone still would have known it was DEx," Adam squeezed him tighter for a second.

"But no-one would have proof," Kris shrugged. "Crusader could just have put two and two together and Firecracker will kill you if you miss your show tonight."

"But, but..."

"But nothing," Kris kissed the underside of Adam's chin. "I love you but I am not making your excuses to Firecracker."

"Spoilsport," Adam grumbled.

"I'll set some search programs to look into Crusader," Kris offered. "But we've got like a half an hour before my shift starts and you wanted to make sure Fizz didn't screw the sound system."

"The only thing that boy keeps his dick out of is his pants," Adam muttered darkly and Kris laughed as he stepped back.

It took nearly ten minutes to rebuild his wrist-comp and Kris snapped it on as he followed Adam out the door. He'd spent most of his free time reworking the wrist-comp and he still wouldn't do any serious coding with it but combined with his inner-eye display, it meant he could keep track of the 'Net gossip and the status of the search spiders busily spinning their webs across the San D network hubs.

He'd changed for work: a black t-shirt with ‘ _Idolize_ ’ on the sleeve in silver and jeans that were tighter than he preferred. It was just late enough in the year that the evening air was crisp with the promise of frost and he shivered, wrapping his arms tightly around Adam's waist.

 _Idolize:NYC_ was bigger, louder and hotter than the original club back in San Diego. Adam had helped Firecracker buy a former warehouse in one of the recently gentrified areas on the edge of the Merc Quarter and the mix of street-ready attitude and the glossy glamour of a millionaires' club kept people coming back. There was a line all the way down the street, a crowd of preening, pretty people under the street lights.

Oh, joy. A crazy busy night was _just_ what Kris wanted to deal with right now. Kris waited for Adam to lock his bike before tugging him down into a kiss. Adam's hand was hot against Kris' chilled skin and Kris leaned into him like there was nothing else in the world.

The pointed cough from Ted, the colossal bouncer on duty by the staff door, shattered that particular illusion.

"Boss-lady's gonna want you," Ted rumbled. He had worked in the original _Idolize_ back in San D and had known Adam for years. He didn’t even blink at Adam’s growl of displeasure. "Sorry, Jay."

"Fine," Kris kissed Adam lightly. "Break a leg."

"That's theatre," Adam sniffed, stealing one last kiss.

"Love you," Kris grinned and then Ted stepped out the way and opened the door and there was no more time to think.

Inside, the club was a madhouse with customers crowded five-deep around the bar in a sweaty wall of heat and grabbing hands. Kris snagged one of the aprons and joined M’Alice and Spite in front of the wall of bottles. _Idolize_ technically offered beer in bottles and on tap but only for the chronically hick and unfashionable. The cocktails were what Firecracker had built the NYC franchise's rep on and Kris wasn't even officially on the floor before the orders started coming across the bar.

He managed a nod to Spite. "Didn't think you were on today?"

"Boss-lady asked," Spite was an older, dignified looking woman who looked more like a librarian dominatrix than the best flair bartender in the city. "Watch your ass. She's got a bug up her butt. Her boy got another visit from City Hall."

"Goody goody gumdrops," Kris plastered on the best smile he could manage. Firecracker had taken it on herself to handle the paperwork Cale needed to open his bike shop on the East Coast and had taken every one of the dozen or so setbacks very personally. She had filed the latest version just yesterday; a new setback would have her spitting bullets.

Kris didn't have long to wait for proof. By the time he'd been on the floor an hour, she'd pulled him aside at least six times for stupid little things like not filling the ice, not opening bottles properly and not filling orders fast enough. Kris didn't point out that the only thing slowing him down was her but it was a close thing.

His friendship with Firecracker was still volatile enough that he honestly wasn't sure 'friendship' was the right word. She was Adam's baby sister, the closest thing to family Adam had and one of the most ruthless fixers Kris had ever met. He had almost nothing in common with her but they'd gotten on okay back in LA. Of course that had been before Kris had nearly ruined her budding relationship with Kickstand and effectively become her brother-in-law. Between Firecracker’s machinations and Cale’s perpetual problems with red tape, he'd managed three whole visits to the new shop, imaginatively called 'Kickstand's', for beer and a chat since they'd moved to NYC.

"Juniper, mop that up would you," Firecracker yelled. Kris nearly dropped the bottle of vodka he was spinning. Firecracker was the only person working for _Idolize:NYC_ that ever came up behind him like that. Admittedly, M’Alice had tried to drop an ice-cube down the back of his shirt. Once. Kris still felt a little bad when he caught the bent angle of M’Alice's nose but M’Alice insisted she liked the badass look.

"I got it," M’Alice chimed in, rolling her eyes at Kris when Firecracker huffed into the back. "Jesus, what's her discord tonight?"

"I don't know but I'm really not in the mood to be her punching bag," Kris poured the cocktail and slid the tall glass across the counter. M’Alice clapped him on the shoulder as he grabbed the Jack and a shaker, turning back to the giggling girls with a wide smile. "Ladies! What's your pleasure?"

The house-lights dimmed as Kris finished mixing the last of a round of Cosmos and the whole club cheered. The stage lights started to flash and the crowd surged closer as M’Alice collapsed dramatically against Kris' shoulder as the patrons abandoned the bar for the dance floor. The space in front of the stage was packed already and Kris could see security taking up position along the walls as the opening notes were drowned out by the cheer of the crowd.

The spotlights lit the stage, catching on the silver-flame decals on Adam's outfit. Perfectly made-up, impeccably dressed, standing centre stage with his eyes closed, Silverfyre could have been an alien god and the whole crowd hushed. Then Silverfyre looked up and out through sinfully long eyelashes and winked. The crowd erupted and Silverfyre rolled his shoulders and hips into the beat, openly sensual and started to sing.

Adam on stage was sex and danger and pure attraction in one lethally beautiful package. It was just as well that virtually no-one needed a cocktail while he was on-stage because Kris needed at least a few minutes to get his head back in the game.

"Back with us yet?" Spite asked dryly as Kris tried to turn his attention to the empties littering the bar.

"Give me, oh, another hour?" Kris stuck his tongue out at her and she laughed. "It's not my fault he's hot!"

"The downside to having an unfairly sexy boyfriend," M’Alice teased, goosing him as she went back for more vodka. "My heart bleeds for you. Really."

Kris laughed. The whole club was electrified; the crowd's reactions and Adam's performance were an infinite loop of feedback. He bumped his hip against Spite and they free-styled back and forth, tossing bottles and glasses through the air as a few thirsty souls fought their way off the dance floor. Adam's singing, a solid beat and a good crowd; it was going to be a good night.


	2. Chapter 2

Dixie held up a single finger putting the conversation on hold for the sixth time and Adam’s fingers twitched.  Dixie had turned up to their meeting twenty minutes late and Adam was cutting into his prep time just to take this meeting; he was due to take the stage in a little over half an hour.  On top of that, Kris’ friend Glitch had showed up at their apartment a few hours ago and said that Crusader – a waste of space merc who couldn’t shoot straight if you paid him, probably holding a grudge that Adam had been him to the punch on the Trojan job – was hot on Juniper’s trail and subcontracting out to mercs who were ready to live the dream.  Adam’s patience was shot and Dixie was standing on his last damned nerve.  Adam turned to the mirror and started to apply his eyeliner with a practiced hand.

Adam paused, his eyes flicking to the pictures taped to the mirror and smiled, the frustration draining a little as he ran a thumb over the picture of Kris. It was a candid shot, Kris directing traffic as Kickstand lugged a box off a trailer. He was smiling, caught in that moment before he laughed and Adam could swear that he could see a twinkle in Kris' eye. In the last couple of months Adam had changed his merc status from active to retired, metaphorically hanging up his guns.  He’d quit at top of his game; zero ranked in the listing of the Iron Circle merc group back in San D and when The Hierarchy had given him an official send off and awarded him a Retired At Zero, or Ret0, a ranking that would be his for the rest of his life. 

Adam didn’t regret retiring.  He was thirty, ancient in merc circles and, though there had been a lot of offers after Trojan, there was very little left to challenge him that didn’t walk far too thin a line between death and disability.  He didn’t need the money – the Trojan job had paid _very_ well.  He had something to live for now, Kris, and he wanted to make the most of it while he could.  Just sitting at home had been boring as hell though and even organizing the rosters at _Idolize:NYC_ had gotten dull after less than a week.  So, with after some not-so-subtle hinting from Kris, he'd started seriously looking into getting his music heard and getting himself signed to a reputable label. He'd even started switching off some of his more combat focused cyberware and dialing back on his daily drug regimen, but soppy as it sounded, the biggest change in his life was Kris and Adam wouldn't change that for anything.

Adam had spent years bouncing from one night stand to one night stand. His longest relationship had been counted in days, never even stretching to a whole week and honestly he'd never known what he was missing out on. He'd trusted no one and he'd been happy, or rather he'd thought he was but then Kris had crashed into his life and rocked him to the core. Those big brown eyes had broken through every defense that Adam had and before he'd even realized what was happening he'd fallen for him and damned if that wasn't the best thing to ever happen to him. Better than finally bringing down Trojan, better than getting revenge for his family, better than anything and it was all Adam could do some days to keep the goofy grin off his face.

"Okay, where were we babe?" Dixie asked finally ending his call just in time to remind Adam of all the parts of his new life that he would rather do without.

"You were trying to tell me that I was being unreasonable," Adam answered, not turning to face the man.

"Really? That doesn't sound like me," Dixie plastered an obviously fake smile on his face and dialed up his equally fake Texan drawl. "How 'bout we go through everything you're not happy with and I'll explain what everything means. I know how confusing all that legal jargon can get."

Adam hated being patronized - _hated_ it - and he was damned if he was going to let some second rate idiot in last year's bargain-basement suit talk down to him.

"It's not the legalese that's confusing me," Adam finished his makeup with deliberate care before he turned to face Dixie, "It's the fact that the contract doesn't bear any resemblance to what we talked about last week. I told you that I wanted input on song choices and wanted to write my own songs and you said that wasn't a problem. But somewhere between leaving that meeting and receiving the contract that seems to have changed." Adam flicked to the second page and pointed to the offending lines, reading them out, "The label reserves the right to engage songwriters as it deems necessary.  The label reserves the right of veto on any song under consideration for either recording or performance and shall decide on the final song selection for any and all planned singles, albums or compilations."

"Silverfyre, babe," Dixie started, "That doesn't mean you won't have input.  You just gotta recognize that we know a little more than you about putting a record together and getting it to the top of the charts.  Something you might love, well, what can I say?  We get a thousand people through the doors every month and every last one of them thinks they know what'll make it in the big bad world of music but they don't.  I love your sound babe but you gotta trust that Dixie knows best on this one."

Trust and Dixie were two words that Adam just couldn't fit together in the same sentence.

"What else you got on your mind, babe?" Dixie asked.

"Here," Adam pointed to another section of the page, "you say that..."

Dixie cut him off as his phone rang again, "Speak, you got Dixie!"

Adam glared at the huge handset.  It looked old in design but it still had that fresh-from-the-box sparkle about it.  Who the hell used an external handset in this day and age? Adam didn’t think that any corp had even thought of bring out a wholly external model since the invention of the phone splice?  Chuck the connection box in your pocket, and let your interfaces do the rest. That was the beauty of technology wasn’t it?  With the right model and the right interface, he could have a phone call with someone half way around the world and the guy standing right next to him would never know.  Sure, Adam had one of those fake earpieces that he hooked onto his ear to let people know he was on the phone – that was just polite – but Dixie didn't seem to have anything like that. Instead, he just held it to his ear.  Adam looked at it a moment longer, curiosity getting the better of him.  He dialed up his hearing, filtering out the background sounds until...  He could hear every word being said on the other end of the line.

"Dix, why do you do this to me?" the woman on the other end of the line whined, "A merc? For serious? Is this because I wouldn't sleep with you at the last launch party? ‘Cause I will.  I will suck your cock so hard that you’ll be seeing stars for the rest of the year right now if it'll get you to say that this is just your idea of a bad joke.  What the Hell am I supposed to do with a merc?"

Adam stiffened.  What was wrong with being a merc?  It was an honest profession, a damned sight more honest than the over-priced ego-massaging she and Dixie were experts at. 

Dixie smiled at Adam and quacked his fingers, "You'll work your magic, babe, you always do."

"Liar," she groaned, "Well, you’re paying me such a bonus for this.  At least.  He's gonna have to leave the guns at home though, can't have him shooting up the red carpet just because someone startled him with a camera flash.  You know what those types are like."

Adam's eyebrow quirked up a fraction.  Jeez, what did this woman think he was?  Her entire knowledge of mercs seemed to come from vidchips and wanna-be-merc simstars.  She'd probably run screaming if he said 'boo' to her.  He smiled; maybe he'd do that if he ever came across her in real life.

"Course, babe, that won't be a problem," Dixie's voice was saccharine sweet, "I want to get started soon as we can.  There's an event next week, yeah? Grab me tickets and see if you can fix up a date.  Tall, blonde, pretty, you know the type?"

"Oh, oh!! Jessica Jason is just out of rehab.  She'd kill for some positive publicity.  I can call her agents and set things up?"

Adam glanced at his chronometer and groaned as he saw the seconds dwindling away.  He was going to have to head to the stage soon and they still hadn't settled anything.  It was times like these that Adam really wondered if he'd made the right decision by retiring and trying to get a record deal.  It was so much simpler to just go to a fixer, get a job and shoot someone.  But he was retired and Dixe’s contract was his best hope for something bigger.  Adam tapped his wrist pointedly.

"Wonderful, anything else?" Dixie held up a finger, offering another insincere smile.

There was a momentary pause, "I'll need to do a complete overhaul on his wardrobe, Dix, it's hopelessly ghetto."

Adam's jaw dropped.  Who the fuck was this bitch and what cereal box had she gotten her fashion credentials off?  Could she seriously not recognize bespoke Dorsett Gibson armor?  Ghetto?  Please!  His armor was hand finished by the best damned fashion designer on either coast, and the only way she was getting him out of it was by force! 

"I know," Dixie sympathized, "Don't worry about it.  We'll sort it all out just as soon as we can, babe."

"You owe me for this, Dix."

"You know it, babe," Dixie laughed and disconnected the call, pressing on one of the overly large buttons on the phone.

Dixie held the phone out, "You like?  It's positively retro, isn't it?  It's what everyone in _The Biz_ is using these days.  You want me to hook you up?" Dixie asked.  "They're usually about ten grand a pop but we can add it to your welcome package.  Not a problem.  Guaranteed unhackable too.  Even DEx couldn't crack this baby."

Adam's lips quirked up a fraction at that.  As far as he'd seen, there was nothing that DEx couldn't crack if they put their mind to it, but this phone...  Even a street kid with his first set of mods could listen into this phone call and Dixie wouldn’t even notice.  Adam had met a hundred guys like Dixie; he thought that the price tag alone was enough to protect him from anyone listening in.  Adam had enough of this guy.  Time to have a little fun, he thought, and play to his image.

"There might be a reason for that," Adam let his smile out.

Dixie frowned, his smile not dimming for a second, "Oh?"

"You know I have a boyfriend, right?  I'm certain that we mentioned him during our last meeting," Adam walked towards Dixie slowly.

"Sure, babe," Dixie backed up a little, starting to look nervous, "What about him?"

"And you know that this jacket alone cost more than your phone, don't you?" Adam hooked a thumb under one of the lapels and flicked it.

"I'm not sure I..." Dixie scrambled to follow what Adam was saying, his smile going glassy.

“And from what I hear, DEx wouldn’t want to bug your phone,” Adam kept moving forward slowly, "Not that they’d need to crack it because anyone can just tune in and hear what you're saying."

"Hear what I'm..." Dixie's eyes opened wide as he finally caught Adam's meaning, "Oh...  Oh, no, babe.  We weren't talking about you.  Heaven's no!  It was another client, I swear."

Adam wasn't stupid and he resented the fact that this man obviously thought that he was.

"You see, Dixie, something you don’t seem to know about mercs?  We're all loaded up with cyberware.  Boosted reflexes, extra modifications, nanobots, but the thing I love most is this one little option I got installed way back when I was nothing but a street punk.  It measures the stress levels in your voice and if you're used to using it, you can read when someone's lying," Adam's voice was low now, dangerous, "Want to guess what it's saying right now, Dixie?"

Dixie shook his head.

Adam smiled, "Good boy.  Now I've got about ten minutes before I have to disappear off and entertain all my loyal fans, so what do you say we sit down and discuss all those little things in the contract that I have a problem with."

Dixie nodded vigorously.  Adam turned to reach for the redlined contract and Dixie's phone rang again.  He turned back to Dixie and saw that the device half way to the man’s ear, his finger hovering over the answer button.

Adam growled, "You even think of pressing that button, I am going to rip that thing out of your badly manicured hand and shoot it straight through its overpriced screen."

Dixie gulped and started to lower the phone.  It kept ringing.  Adam twisted back around to grab the contract.  No sooner was his back turned than Adam heard the tell tale click of the button being pressed and a tinny voice on the other end of the line.  Adam spun and in one neat move, grabbed the phone and threw it up toward the ceiling.  With his other hand, he drew his gun and pulled the trigger in one smooth motion.  One shot and then tiny fragments of plastic and metal started to rain down.  Dixie's mouth was opening and closing but there were no sounds coming out.  Adam ran a hand through his hair and reholstered his gun.

"You can't," Dixie finally blubbed out the words.

Adam shrugged, "I warned you and well, _'you know what those types are like'_.  That was what she said, wasn’t it?"

The dressing room door was thrown open a second later and Ted, Adam’s hand-picked head of security burst in, his gun out.  Ted had moved from San D with them and taken up the position of Head of Security here in NYC.  He was an ex-merc, but had left the game about seven years ago when his wife had gotten pregnant and given him an ultimatum.  He was reliable and a damned good guy and Adam was glad that he and his family had made the move.  He was part of the _Idolize_ family and he'd taken over a lot of the planning that Adam had done, rosters, security rotas and making sure that people had lifts home at the end of their shifts.

Allison was behind Ted, peering around him, a derringer clutched in one hand and a PADD in the other. 

"It's okay, Ted," Adam held up a hand, "Dixie and I just had a bit of a disagreement.  It's all sorted now, isn't it, Dixie?"

Dixie was still staring at the wreck that had been his phone and he erupted into a fireball of manic anger, "I knew I should have listened to my manager.  You're a fucking menace, an animal.  Everyone said I was a fool for even thinking of signing a goddamn merc, said that you were only one step up from streetscum.  I stood up for you.  I said they were wrong, _and they are_.  You're not one step up from streetscum, you _are_ streetscum."  Dixie gathered up what he could of his phone, brushing the fragments onto the dog-eared contract and holding them as steady as he could given that he was gesturing wildly at Adam, "You think anyone is going to sign you after I tell them about this?  Ha!  Fat chance.  You're fucking mental!"

Dixie tried to lash out at Adam but Adam caught his wrist easily and twisted until he had the arm locked behind the man's back.  Dixie struggled and tried as best he could to get free but Adam was much too good at this to let the man wiggle loose.

"Shut up!" Adam ground the words out, right into Dixie's ear, "Screw your contract.  You hear me?  Screw the contract.  I wouldn't work with you if you were the last label on the planet and you can tell your boss that.  I want you out of my club, and don't bother coming back."  Adam looked up at Ted, "If he ever tries to come back, I want him shot!"

Adam practically threw Dixie at Ted, just wanting to be rid of him.  Ted just nodded and dragged the guy out, pulling the door closed behind him.  Adam turned to face his reflection in the mirror and sighed. 

"Fuck!" he cursed, "Fuck!"

A hand rested on his shoulder and Adam forced a smile for Allison’s benefit. She had done most of the work with Slam! Media to set up the contract and he hated to disappoint her.

“You’ll work it out, Adam.  Screw him if he can’t see your potential.  We’ll find another label.  I’ll start making some calls tomorrow.”

Adam patted her hand and shook his head, closing his eyes.

Allison squeezed his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to get ready.  Shake it off, honey.  You’ve got a crowd out there waiting for you.”

Adam didn’t open his eyes, just listened to Allison’s shoes clicking against the floor and the door snicking closed behind her.  Eventually, he opened his eyes and looked at himself in the mirror.

His phone rang, the internal display showing Drey’s name.  He didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with Drey’s boundless enthusiasm right now.  With a flick of his eye, Adam hung up the call without answering and mentally promised to call Drey back after the show.

Adam's eyes flicked to the picture of Kris again and he reached out to stroke a finger over Kris' cheek, thinking of what Kris would say if he was here and not stuck behind the bar serving cocktails.  He'd probably say that it was for the best, that Adam didn't really want to sign with a company who didn't respect him, and he'd be right.  Adam smiled at that and ran a finger over the infinity loop light tattoo that Kris had designed and installed for him, feeling the warm glow under his fingers.  Kris wasn't even here but he was still making Adam feel better.  He shook his head, smiling to himself.  Damn but he had it bad.

There was a knock on the door and Adam heard Allison call out 'five minutes, 'Fyre'.  Adam examined his makeup and did a quick touch up.  He shucked off the armor jacket and the holster and fixed his clothes.  He squared his shoulders and in the mirror, it was Silverfyre looking back at him, confident, strong and ready to take on the world.

"Let's do this!"

Adam listened to the last strains of the song that his support act were playing.  They weren't bad, Adam supposed, but they just didn't have any real edge.  _Flatline_ ; the name was nearly as clichéd as their uninspired chrome rock music.  Adam could hear better music pumped out of the five-buck street club in NYC every night of the week and while the crowd were listening and swaying to the beat, they weren't captivated. 

 _That_ was what Adam wanted. 

 _That_ was what Adam needed tonight.

  1. Five minutes and he would ROCK!



He flexed his fingers as the closing notes rang out, marking the end of the set for Flatline and, from the rumbles of the crowd, no one was going to ask for an encore.  Adam almost felt sorry for them - _almost_ \- but the bitter look they threw him as they stepped down off the stage brought out the merc in him and he sneered back.  They all knew that the crowd was there to see Silverfyre and Adam didn’t have any energy to waste soothing their deflated egos.

Rolling his shoulders, Adam worked out a knot of pre-show tension.  He closed his eyes and centered himself, losing himself in the sounds of the crowd.  A final glance at the soundboard and Adam was ready. 

The house band moved onto the stage, assembling their instruments, plugging into the sound network and checking their levels.  They might only be the house band, but Adam couldn’t have asked for better guys at his back.  They were professionals and damned good at what they did.  He’d handpicked them himself, brought them across the country to NYC with him even before Kris and Allison had started pushing him to take his music more seriously.  As soon as they were happy, they nodded to him and Adam stepped up and took his place.  The spotlights were off and in the recessed stage, it was impossible to see much more than a few twinkles of reflected light off the chrome lines of the drums. 

Adam took a second to look out over the crowd.  The club was packed, filled full of men, women and indeterminate others from every strata of New York’s society.  He’d seen _TheBuZZ_ ’s feed earlier in the week.  It had been emailed to him by the network of AI’s that Adam had started calling Hijack’s Little Helpers in the privacy of his own mind, but the showdown with Dixie and by extension Slam! Media, well, Adam hadn’t been expected such a turnout.

Everything hung on Adam now, everything and Adam settled into his stance.  Looking to the side, Adam gave the signal and the spotlights flashed to life, tracking him and pinning him to the spot.  A hundred thoughts ran through Adam's mind.  His fingers twitched as instinct made him long for his guns, never quite comfortable under the sudden glare of so many lights.  He felt exposed but there was nothing he could do, nowhere to run.  Not now.  The moment of nerves gave way to cockiness as the crowd settled, hushing their conversations and turning to watch him. 

Adam closed his eyes, tilted his face up to meet the light and took a breath.  Whatever the outcome, Adam was ready.

"Ooooooohh," Adam sang the note, crisp and clean, letting his voice run higher and higher until it floated up to the rafters, sounding out true and strong and pure, "Sometimes I feel that I'm just a bullet in a gun."

Slow and steady, Adam carried the melody solo.  No backing music, no accompaniment, just his voice carrying across the silence as the _Idolize:NYC_ crowd looked on, completely captivated.

"Armed and ready to fly."

Adam looked out over the crowd and let his eyes slide past the slack-jawed faces of the audience and over to the bar where Kris stood, a glass in his hand and his eyes locked on Adam.  Adam’s lips tilted up a fraction and Kris smiled back.

A pause, a breath and then, “Only a single course, never able to change.”  Adam let his voice dip to a deeper register and picked up the refrain, “but then I see you and now…  I’m jumping the base line.”

That was the band’s cue and they crashed in, drums hard and guitars wailing to pick up the beat.  The crowd screamed and clapped and Adam gave Kris a final wink and then turned his attention back to the crowd. 

“Plugged in and watching the wire,” Adam strutted across the stage, his energy climbing as the crowd reacted, “Sniper sights up and ready to fly.”

All thoughts of Slam! Media, Dixie, Crusader, contracts and everything else were forgotten.  All that was left was the joy of the performance and elation and the audience screamed for more.  He moved from _Jumping the Base Line_ straight on to _Where the Metal meets the Meat_ , stopping only to give the band their credit.  Nothing in the world matched this and Adam was reigning supreme.

“…on this Gauntlet City Night,” Adam held the last note as the music died behind him. He took a moment to savor the hysterical applause and then took his bow. 

Two encores and still there were cries for more but Adam left them like that, stepping from the stage for the second time while they begged.  It was a damned good show, his best yet, and he laughed at himself for doubting that this was what he wanted to do with his life.  Screw Slam! Media and screw Dixie.  He didn’t need them.  He’d find another way and he’d live his dream.  It would take time, sure, but when did anything worthwhile come easy?

Adam ducked into his dressing room and stripped out of his sweaty stage clothes.  He’d shower later but right now, he just wanted a change of clothes, something dry and clean.  A touchup to his eyeliner and he was ready to go out and meet the fans.

He was tugging on a t-shirt when his phone rang, Drey’s name popping up on the display again.  Adam smiled and flicked an eye to connect the call.

“’Fyre, ‘Fyre, we’ve found a place.  It’s perfect!  You’ve got to check it out for us, for me.  Please?” Drey pleaded with him.

“How do you know it’s perfect if you haven’t seen it yet?” Adam laughed at Drey’s boundless enthusiasm. 

“’Fyre,” Drey whined, somehow stretching those four letters to about six syllables long, “Please…  The agent needs an answer tomorrow.  We’ve seen the pictures and everything but Gee says that we need someone to actually go there in person and make sure that it’s not in the middle of a warzone or something.  I mean, I’d totally say yes, but Gee won’t let me.  He won’t even let me talk to the agent, isn’t that just totally unfair?  Well, I’m getting my own back on him.  He’s couched for the next two hours!”

Adam had to bite back a laugh, “Two whole hours, Drey?  Wow!”

“I know, right?” Adam practically could hear Drey’s proud smile through the phone, “It would have been longer but I don’t see any reason to punish myself.  _I_ didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Can I speak to the big guy for a sec, Drey?” Adam asked.

There were some muffled words on the other side of the line and then a grunt.

“Anything you want me to look for specifically?  I’m assuming you want an assessment of the usual stuff, like structure, location, gangs.”

“Bring Juniper,” Gee said after a long pause and then the phone was handed back to Drey.

“Good to know some things never change,” Adam rolled his eyes.

Gee’s hatred of Adam hadn’t diminished with distance but somehow Kris had managed to slip under Gee’s radar and had infiltrated the small – tiny really – shriveled lump of his heart.  It put his boy on one of the most exclusive shortlists Adam knew of; the list seemed to start with Drey and end with Kris with no names in between.  But at least the friendship meant that Gee was less likely to shoot Adam.  Well, Gee was less likely to shoot him with lethal ammo.

“He’s just nervous about this move.  It’s kinda out of our comfort zone but I’ve got a good feeling about it,” Drey’s words were upbeat but Adam could hear the nerves in his voice.

“It’ll be good, Drey, don’t worry.  Send me the location and I’ll go there tomorrow, with Juniper if he’s free, but I’m telling you now, it probably won’t be until noon.”  Drey squealed and Adam laughed, “Right, I gotta go now.  I’ll call you after I see the place.  Oh and tell Gee he owes me for this and I am totally going to collect.”

“Sure, no problem, hon.  I’ll work it out for you.  Loves and kisses!” Drey called as Adam disconnected the line.

He shook his head and left the dressing room.

Adam was inundated as soon as he pushed through the doors.  Bootlegged recordings of the San Diego shows, photographs, t-shirts of old rock bands all of them were shoved at him and Adam signed them all, smiling and laughing with the fans who kept telling him how awesome his show was and how they’d queued for three hours to get in and asking why didn’t he have a different supporting act.  Adam stuck to the stock answer: “They’re local talent and they deserve support.  Not everyone starts out at the top.” 

Hell, it wasn’t even really a lie.  Adam remembered his first time on stage back in _Idolize:San D_ ; Allison had pushed him onstage with not even a minute’s warning and no time to prep.  His first song had been horrific and he’d nearly been booed off the stage but by the last song, he’d found his groove and was almost reluctant to leave the stage.  He’d been back the next week and the week after that and they’d been good times but here in New York, on stage and off, they were better times.

Adam broke free of the crowd for a moment and found the bar, where Kris was waiting with a shot of vodka and a honeyed tea.  He’d been craving vodka but the honeyed tea was what he really needed after a show.  His hand found Kris’ and he smiled gratefully.

Kris smiled and pushed a card over the bar, “Some guy dropped this behind the bar during the show,” Kris glanced around at the crowd and lowered his voice, “I checked – he’s legit.  I put him in one of the VIP booths.”

Adam looked at the card.  Case, just one name, and a very familiar logo; Gunfire Records.  They were one of the biggest record companies on the East Coast.  Kris pointed at one of the booths, screened by the silvery dome of the privacy field.  Adam nodded and thanked Kris with a smile and a wink.

Adam pushed away from the bar and made his way slowly, very slowly over to the booth.  Everyone wanted to talk to him and Adam couldn’t just ignore them.  They’d paid to see him and they deserved more than to be ignored just because some entry-level talent scout was waiting on him.  There were more autographs and pictures and words of encouragement but finally Adam stepped through the privacy barrier, leaving the sound of the crowd and the chaos of the club behind.

The guy – Case – smiled up at him and gestured to the seat on the other side of the booth. “Silverfyre, epic show tonight, dude, absolutely epic.”

“Thanks,” Adam said. 

He took a second to look at Case over.  He looked to about Adam’s age, maybe a year or two younger.  Dark skinned with his hair tied tight with cornrows.  He wore a faded metal rock t-shirt of a band that Adam had only barely heard of and ripped jeans.  His phone sat on the table in front of him, but Adam could see that it was running silent and that there were six missed calls on it already.  It rang again while Adam was looking at it but Case paid it no attention, shoving it to the side as he leaned in.

“I love your energy and the lyrics... really fierce, I liked them. They were really tailored to your image.  Your own work?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Adam answered, “I spent years of running as a merc so I can’t really start singing about high school romance, you know?  I just can’t connect with it.”

“Totally get where you’re coming from, man,” Case nodded, “Totally.  Hell of a crowd tonight too.  Caught _TheBuZZ_ feed earlier in the week, that’s why I’m here, actually.  I mean, anything that shows up on _TheBuZZ_ , well, what can I say?  If it wasn’t on our radar before the feed, it’s definitely on our radar afterwards.  Glad I came, too.”

“I don’t know if anyone else is talking to you,” he said, his eyes on Adam.

Adam sat back in his seat and shrugged, “I’ve had an offer from Slam! Media.”

Case’s nose wrinkled a fraction at that, like he’d just caught a bad smell on the wind.

“Slam! like to think they’re big time, sure, but they don’t have the slightest clue what to do with a talent like you.  They’ll have you singing synthpop by the end of the year,” Case shook his head, “I think you deserve better than that.  Gunfire can easily beat any offer that’s currently sitting on the table.  We’ve got amazing producers and we’re second to none in the music industry when it comes to representing our artists.  In fact, Gunfire’s the number one label for rock and metal.  We’re built on the talent, not the hype.  Our reputation is based on taking chances – signing the acts that we think are cutting edge, the acts that most mainstream labels wouldn’t take a chance on because they’re not the cutesy, teeny-bop voices that you see on simscreens and vidlinks or the pretty-boy artists who make it into the top 10 with music that sounds like they stole their mom’s easy listening shit.” 

“Honestly?” Case sat back again, “Just between you and me, the music industry right now is stagnant.  Most labels will look at a background like yours and, no offense, think that you’re too much of a risk.  They’ve stopped listening to the music and looking at the crowds and that, to me, is the wrong way to do things.  Gunfire is all about running the edges and making a new mainstream, and I think you could be huge and I wanna help get you there.  What do you say?”

Adam pulled up his cyberware menu and popped up his inbuilt Voice Stress Analyzer.  The graph showed solid greens across the board, a few blips at the stress lines but nothing that suggested that Case was trying to pull a fast one.  He had heard patter like this from Slam! Media.  Well, at least he’d heard the running down the competition part at least, and he wasn’t naïve enough to believe Case actually meant what he’d said about the current status of the music industry, but behind that, he could see sincerity in Case’s eyes and Adam was intrigued.

“It depends on the contract,” Adam said bluntly, “but it sounds like an interesting idea.”

“Smart man,” Case nodded, smiling, “The way that I usually work is that I’ll arrange a studio session with a solid producer who I think would work well with you.  You lay down a demo, you know?  We’ll see if you can do what you did here in a studio with sound techs and microphones and all the rest.  Worst case scenario? It doesn’t work out and you get to keep the demo tape.  Best case, we sit down with you and your representatives and hammer out a contract.  Everything’s negotiable.  We won’t just hand you a wad of paper and expect you to sign at the bottom.  So what do you say?  You wanna come and lay down a track with us?”

Adam nodded, smiling back at Case, “I say, let’s do this!”


	3. Chapter 3

 

Draghos was a curling coil of code threaded through the data-stacks of SDPD's database, flickering trails of light crackling along his spine as he processed.  Kris was tucked securely into a black spot not far from his master control security program, fingers flying over the code fragments of the spiders that had been steadily trawling the San D network traffic for the last three weeks. 

Nox was sitting cross-legged on some obsolete OS code, sorting through the data with a frown and tearing out chunks of the data-stream.  Virago was watching the security programs as she flicked through the stream of data and Chronos was dancing around the blocky cartoonish security programs who were marching precisely calculated loops around the inner walls of the data fortress.  The PD’s security programs were basic off-the-shelf code, designed to destroy any detected intruders rather than the skilled anti-viral tracker programs and Kris hadn't needed to devote even a microsecond to getting past them before the suite were running rings around all three tiers of the SDPD's firewall.

The suite were still testing out some of the newer version upgrades and one of the sub-processes running in Kris' ikon was tracking their performance.  Kris glanced sideways as he waited for the latest version of the spiders to compile.  There were a couple of memory leaks that he needed to tidy up but overall, they were performing well.

" _`Eyes on the prize, boss,`_ " Virago chirruped.

"`Yeah, yeah`," Kris turned back to the spiders as they finished compiling, code sinking into the kernel.  The spiders blipped and scuttled off into the SDPD data fortress, tiny blinking lights that were lost in the criss-crossing data-streams of the system in nanoseconds. Draghos grayed out, sinking back into the underlying code and Kris slipped out through the backdoor he'd coded in months ago.

The suite fell in behind him and the 'Net opened in a swirl of multi-colored lights and flashing blazes of passing data runners and the millions of programs passing through the network hubs.  Kris got a millisecond at most to take in the sweep of the electronic landscape.  Then his vision flashed red-black-red and he jerked upright, nearly falling out of his seat he dropped back into the meatspace hard enough to leave a crater.

"Ticket, man," Glitch poked him in the shoulder. "You need to be awake."

Kris stared at him, working the clench of his jaw.  Jacking-out was disconcerting enough when it was done properly.  Getting dumped out to deal with a ticket check by way of the EUMI emergency interrupt left him feeling like he had a bad case of super-sonic whiplash and a three-day hangover all at once.  If he had been able to co-ordinate enough to throw a punch, he would have broken Glitch's jaw.

They were already passing through the Roosevelt authentication points, miniguns the size of small planes spinning to track them through.  One failed authentication and the guns would start to fire.  Glitch tensed.  The automated ticket check lights flashed overhead, the scan passing him and Glitch as if they weren't there because, thanks to the NINJA program that Kris had set running before hacking the subway's internal network, they _weren't_.  The subway ticket system was Kris had explained this five times but apparently he was going to have to explain it a _sixth_ time.  Perhaps percussive Morse Code would make more of a impression?

Kris had spent the last eight months living in the shadow of the New York Dome.  He’d also spent the whole morning explaining to Glitch that the Dome was metaphorical.   NYC had been the corporate heart of the Greater United States since the riots in 2014 and what had been Manhattan had been sold – lock, stock and barrel – to the megacorps.  The corps had blown a trench from the old 125th street to 132nd  into the IBEM security canal and turned it into their very own exclusive island fortress.  Within three years, the only people who remembered the name Manhattan were the tourists.  The island was now the centre of the Dome, the biggest and most comprehensive electronic security network ever created.  The only part of the whole thing that Glitch had apparently paid attention to was the license to kill granted to all Dome security.

Glitch was one of his best friends, Kris reminded himself for the fourteenth time that morning.  Also caffeine depravation was not grounds for murder, even if it totally should be.  His head hurt, a steady throb that made him grumpy and snappish, on top of the drop shock.  It was only slightly Glitch's fault but Glitch was here and he was the one who had dreamed up the new test algorithm at three am which meant Kris was sleep-, caffeine- and patience-deprived.  The jury was still out on who had broken the damn coffee machine.

They’d spent the night doing some work for Drew, who’d been Kris’ friend and fixer back in San D.  A year ago, Kris could have had the whole thing done and dusted in time for breakfast but Glitch, after a talk with Adam about Kris’ new limitations, had spent most of the night fussing.

It was the sort of job that Kris could have delegated but he wanted to be sure it was done right.  Drew was retired, living with his girlfriend/fiancée and daughter in one of the suburban hamlets in California on the fifteen million bucks that Kris had declared was his share of the Trojan job payout.

“Like you took a penny of it,” Drew had said dryly.  He knew Kris far too well.  He was also one of the best men Kris had ever met.  He’d helped Kris to survive his time in the Gauntlet and covered his tracks when Kris absolutely had to take a job.  He had hated Adam on sight, grudgingly warming to him over the frantic prep for the Trojan job and finally talking Cale into helping Kris go back to Adam.

Drew had worked the San D underground for more than fifteen years, building up a solid rep. That hadn’t stopped some jackass from spreading nasty rumors about him. Really nasty rumors; the kind that could get your throat cut from behind in a dark alley.  Drew’s rep had been trashed completely so, ever pragmatic, Drew had called Kris last night and asked to have his old ID salted and burned by the end of the week. 

After Kris and Adam had brought down Trojan, he’d semi-retired.  It was time to finish the job, Drew had said simply; he had a daughter and a girlfriend he loved who he never saw.     They had enough money to live out the rest of their lives in comfort.

Kris’ train of thought was interrupted by a new message alert flashing up on his inner-eye display;  Drew confirmed the job was good.  He’d  also added a postscript.

_Don’t think this gets you out of coming to the wedding._

It was a nice gesture – at least, as nice as Drew’s gestures  ever got – but honestly, Kris would rather have had the extra five minutes sleep right then. Kris squashed himself further into his seat and half-closed his eyes, drifting to the sound of wheels clicking along the rails.  His stomach settled slowly and the urge to commit murder eased off.  Glitch was humming, sprawled out beside him with his fingers drumming on the strap of his bag.  Kris sighed and Glitch went as quiet as it was possible for him to be, drumming fingers quietly on his leg.

It really wasn't Glitch's fault that Kris was cranky as fuck.  It wasn't really anyone's fault which was really not helpful when Kris just wanted someone to punch.  He hadn't slept well last night, even after Glitch had guilted him into going to bed.  Kris had tried to wait for Adam to make it back from a long night with his new record representative. 

Less than a year of living together and Kris couldn't sleep alone anymore.  Just listening to Adam's breathing was enough to keep the worst of Kris' nightmares at bay and Kris had dozed off some time in the early hours of the morning, still waiting for Adam to get in.  So of course, he'd woken up to find a note on the fridge apologizing for getting in late and hoping he hadn't been disturbed when Adam crashed on the couch.

There'd been three exclamation marks and a big heart drawn at the bottom of the note.  Kris hadn't even been upset with _Adam_ because the suite were logging Adam's sleep patterns and Adam wasn't getting that much more sleep than Kris was.  The hardest part was that Adam was so happy underneath all the exhaustion. 

The label was practically bending over backwards to accommodate everything Adam wanted.  He had practically complete creative control, input on everything with a little help from Firecracker and that meant meeting after meeting after meeting.  Kris hadn't seen him except for their date nights on Thursdays in nearly three weeks and while it was hard to blame Adam for taking his big chance, Adam was running himself ragged just trying to keep up with what he needed to do.  There wasn’t any time left for Kris or lazy nights in. 

There was nothing he could do.  It wasn’t like Kris was going to stand in the way of Adam's dreams.

It just sucked that he was spending more time picking apart corporate code online and deleting Drew’s old shopping histories than he did with his boy.  DEx had spent several days writing and uploading a hundred different spiders across San D's networks and could at least claim, with serious confidence, that if Crusader had a lead on them, he was doing exactly nothing about it.

Nothing much was moving in San D, courtesy of Uncle Sam.  Five months after the fact, the federal investigation into the fall of Trojan Security had finally started work in the city.  All the corporations were being quiet and very careful.  Even the gangs were keeping their heads down as the full weight of federal law enforcement started work.  Even LA's less-than-legal industries were feeling the pinch.

SYS had run her last check just an hour ago and Kris had been tidying up his own spiders before- well, Kris still saw after-images of the ‘Net's shining lines as he blinked.  Absolutely nothing.  Crusader was in the wind, none of his usual contacts were working and with that much fed attention, Crusader was probably down the deepest, darkest hole he could find.  That was the logical conclusion but no matter how much Kris repeated that mantra, he wasn't sure he believed in it.

Still, there was nothing else to do.  From here, the automated monitoring programs they'd finished rebuilding the night before and Kris had installed just minutes ago would keep watch.  He and Glitch had been hard at work for the last five days, sharing a virtual environment with SYS to get it down.  Kris had been careful; neither of them used the apartment's 'Net connection to run these checks.  NYC was a big city and there were plenty of other places to jack in that would be a lot harder to trace.  Kris had done his research well ahead of time.

"Hey, Jay," Glitch plucked at his sleeve and Kris opened one eye to glower at him.  Glitch was pointing at the end of the carriage where there was a cheap coffee machine.  "You want?"

Kris glared at him and Glitch laughed, scooting out of the seat and weaving past the few bored commuters sharing the carriage.  Kris shifted so he could see all the other passengers, settling his back more firmly against the window.  There were a handful of suits, most tapping away at pocket tablets or reading digital displays on the inside of their glasses.  There was one kid kicking the seat in front of her in time with the music from her internal music player.  No immediate threat.

Glitch came back with two paper cups that smelled like battery acid and looked to be full of tar.  Kris drained the whole thing in one gulp and relaxed a little.  His headache was easing as the caffeine flooded his bloodstream.  It took a few minutes but by the time the robotic intercom announced their station, Kris' bad mood was practically gone.  Kris shifted, dropping his head onto Glitch's shoulder and feeling the other runner relax.  Kris smiled a little.  The train bumped into the station and they joined the queue in front of the security booths.

Dorsett Gibson's new boutique was inside the NYC dome; on the far side of four different security checks.  It was a novel experience, having actual legit paperwork and Kris' biggest concern was keeping Glitch from wandering off halfway through.  He'd been expecting something like this since the spiders started turning up nothing.  Glitch honestly wasn't usually this easily distracted but the endless work on Crusader was tedious and boring and Glitch got twitchy and distractible when he was frustrated.  Still, NYC's finest weren't known for their sense of humor.

"So where are we going?" Glitch asked as he took his bag out of the scanner.  "You didn't say."

"Dorsett Gibson's new place," Kris smiled at one of the cops who was looking over at them with a bored expression. 

"Dorsett Gibson?" Glitch blinked at him.  "I mean, I know your boy has a fetish for their armor so I shouldn't be surprised you know the designer personally."

"I wouldn't call it a fetish so much as a fixation," Kris considered for a second and added honestly.  "He has a fetish for me in Dorsett Gibson but that's mostly because Drey is stingy with the measurements."

"Drey as in _Andre Dorsett_ _himself_?" Glitch whistled.

"Yup," Kris flicked a glance at the map icon which flashed up the stamp-sized map in the corner of his vision.  There wasn't a coffee shop between the station and the new boutique and he was not ready to deal with Drey and Glitch at once.  One hyperactive, overly curious puppy in human form was more than Kris could deal with on one cup of coffee.  He refused to contemplate dealing with them both without a coffee IV.

Drey was shorter than both of them, not that you could tell normally.  Heels, in Andre's world, were not accessories; they were essentials.  Kris liked his ankles intact, thank you very much and they'd argued the point a hundred times.  Drey was skinny, mostly fuelled by coffee and Kris had won his undying devotion when he'd fixed the coffee-machine in Drey's San D studio during an all-night session.  He didn't work out and he looked in need of a good dinner (in Kris' highly biased opinion) but Drey could run rings around him in terms of sheer boundless energy.  Last time, Kris had seen Drey, he'd had purple-polka dot eyes and violet leopard print hair.  God and Gee only knew what he looked like now.  Drey didn't just work in the fashion industry, he lived for fashion. "He can be a little...off the wall but he's a good guy.  Just don't get flirty with his boy."

"That's Gibson?"

"Yeah, Gee doesn't talk much but he's a good guy," Chronos' ikon flashed up an update that Glitch was scanning Gee's criminal record - the real one that now only existed on the DEx data fortress - and he whistled a moment later.

"Good for given values of the term, I see," Glitch said after blinking away the feed.  "He's definitely a good shot at least?"

"Seriously, he's not that bad," Kris laughed.  Sven Gibson looked like Hollywood's wet dream of a merc and acted like he'd walked straight off the screen of a gritty action flick.  Gee had run under the handle 'Viking' at the start of his career and it was still the best way to describe him.  Tall, blond and probably one of the few mercs in the city that was on a level with Adam, Gee was the merc's merc.  He'd terrified Kris the first few times they'd met but after saving Dorsett Gibson's client list from a malicious 'runner and saving Gee from Fortress, Gee had more or less adopted him.  It was only noticeable if you knew Gee; a slight softening in his habitually dour expression and occasionally words instead of grunts.  Kris genuinely liked the guy, even if he knew better than to tell Gee so to his face.

"He's also the guy who's paying for this, so be nice."

"Why doesn't he just get one of the locals in?  I mean, I know you're good but he doesn't seem the kind of guy who offers just anybody a job and it's not like you're hurting for the money," Glitch asked as they rounded the corner.  The new fashion quarter covered the boundary between 1st and 2nd retail Zones and Kris turned off 34th Street onto a street of modest brownstones with discreet signs on the railings in front of them and actual trees dotted along the sidewalk.  Kris started counting doors, noticing the brand names already showing on the signs they passed.  This was Fashion with a capital F and he was glad.  Drey was the best and most famous armor designer in the States but he'd been yearning towards the world of real fashion for years, and what Drey wanted, Gee made sure he had.  It wasn't going to be quite that simple but Kris had faith in them both.

"It's just a wiring job," Kris explained as they found the right building and started up the stairs.  "Gee doesn't get along with the sparks in the city.

"Wow, I wonder why?" Glitch murmured as they walked through the door.  Gee was standing in the hallway.  His perfectly tailored business suit was dark navy, almost black and it would have taken a practiced eye to spot the armor woven through the fabric.  It did absolutely nothing to hide the threat that Gee embodied but it made him look pretty while he glowered.  “Assuming that’s our would-be employer?”

"Yeah, that's him," Kris confirmed, flicking a glance behind him as Gee's glare intensified. "Hey Gee."

Glitch edged back, standing a little behind him and peered at Gee with wide eyes.  He didn't say anything so Kris turned back to Gee.  "This is my friend Glitch, I told you he was coming to help out?"

Gee inclined his head, growling unhappily under his breath and then stormed past them to kick the door frame.  There were wires just visible along the edges and Kris flicked over Draghos' ikon and the security program obligingly flashed up the specifications of the boutique's security system.  Kris winced as he scanned the suite's scathing assessment of the whole set-up.

He was only distracted for a few seconds but that was all Glitch needed.  "...Mount Merc. Wow, you're kinda...huge."

"And you're kinda... annoying."

"No," Kris interrupted before Glitch's pride drowned out his common sense.  "He's a lot annoying but he's a good guy."

Glitch shrugged as Kris glanced at him, conceding the point.  "I resemble that remark."

"Damn right you do," Kris looked back at Gee.  "What's wrong?"

Gee kicked the door again, hard enough to rattle the whole storefront.  He was genuinely furious which made Kris edge back a little.  He trusted Gee.  He did but some instincts never died and in the doorway with the sun behind him, Gee looked like...  Glitch's hand caught him just over the elbow and squeezed, just once before falling away.  Having Glitch there, silent but present made it easier to hold his ground and let the memories roll off him. 

"Didn't beep," Gee growled.

"That's a _Sternmeyer_ X-class," Kris shrugged.  He hadn't bothered to take down the NINJA program - even with legit papers, Kris didn't like the idea of NYPD having their profiles on record.  "We're both running anti-security programs so it didn't pick us up."

"It's the X-780, man," Glitch shook his head, disgusted.  Gee glared some more and Kris explained.

"That wouldn't pick you up unless you had a track-chip or a known-criminal profile on the local PD's public database.  Runners call it the 'doormat' for a reason, you know."

Gee growled, turning a murderous glare towards the half-open door to the back room. 

Glitch tucked himself a little more behind Kris and they both turned to see what Gee was glaring at.  The door, set in the wall, was secure but as Draghos overlaid the current system blueprints over the real world, Kris realized that it wasn't actually connected to the main server.  Draghos and Skellington, Glitch's master security program, had already taken over most of the system's functions without even needing their users' input.

Gee slammed through the door, there was a series of crashes and a lot of swearing.  Glitch and Kris exchanged wary glances, backing up a little closer to the door.  Gee reappeared, holding a plump man with graying hair and a pleather overall by the collar.  The techie's feet were kicking impotently at the air nearly a foot off the ground and he was going purple.  Gee marched past them and dumped the techie out the front door.  He wasn't careful and Kris heard the poor bastard bounce down the steps to land on his ass on the sidewalk.

"I don't like liars."  Glitch stared at Gee with wide eyes and Kris' own heart was thumping faster.  He had to clench his hands into fists to keep them from trembling.  Gee looked down at them as he shut the door solidly. 

"The installation guy, I take it?" Kris asked, proud that his voice didn't shake at all. Gee's expression darkened and he nodded once. Glitch was playing with his wrist-comp, only glancing up once or twice to be sure Gee wasn't about to snap and go on a killing spree.

"Dude, you gotta see what Skellington's doing to the AI!  This system's bullshit from the source code up."

Gee turned his attention to Glitch, staring down at him expressionlessly.  His voice was low and dangerous.  "You're in my system..."

"Uh, well, technically _we're_ in your system," Glitch managed, backing a little further behind Kris.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."  Kris skimmed the feedback Draghos was filling his peripheral vision with.  Skellington had managed to lock the AI out of the entire system.  He tapped his wrist-comp, bringing the main wireless card and enabling it to let Draghos inspect the full disaster.  For a guy who'd grew up on the streets, Gee had a knack for finding the worst electronic security specialists on either coast.  Draghos was already redlining most of the AI's primary functions.

"But I know _him_."  Gee regarded Glitch through narrowed eyes. 

"And he knows me," Glitch objected.

"It's fine, Gee," Kris' fingers itched for his deck and five private minutes to properly inspect the whole network.  "Glitch knows what he's doing, which is more than I can say for your programmer.  Our security programs just locked the inbuilt AI out of your system as potential malware."

Gee slammed his hand down on the counter, hard enough to crack the solid marble.  "That good-for-nothing-lying-sack-of... When I get my hands on him..."

"It's nothing that can't be fixed," Kris assured him.  Glitch pressed a little closer as Gee snarled and Kris double-checked the directory trees.  "It's going to be fine.  You guys don't have anything secured on the server yet?"

Gee shook his head, scowling as he looked at the doorway and considered the implications.  Glitch jumped when he swung back to look at them.  Kris didn't move until Gee nodded to himself.  "You're good at this stuff."

Kris had to bite back a smile.  Gee sounded exactly like Adam did when Kris brought back something new and shiny but neither of them would appreciate the comparison.  "'This stuff' isn't exactly rocket-science."

Gee nodded.  "Programmer wanted 42K.  The idiot doing security wanted forty-five.  You fix it, money's yours."

Kris glanced at Glitch who rolled his shoulders and looked around.  It wasn't a no and with the work for Drew done, they needed something to fill their time beyond the endless shifts in _Idolize:NYC_.  Eighty-seven thousand was decent pocket money, enough to legitimately start up some new gadget or project.  Helping Gee out would at least give them something to do before their combined shifts at _Idolize:NYC_ killed them both.  He shrugged back and turned to Gee.  "...if you want this place secure, no way that hardware's going to work."

"We're good," Glitch agreed, answering the unspoken question without acknowledging it.  "But we're not miracle workers."

It wasn't wholly true; they could use the hardware to build a functional security system.  They could also hang a neon sign reading 'DEx Installed This' outside the building.  It wasn't worth the risk but of course, he couldn't tell Gee that part.  Gee didn't even blink, just pulled out his phone and tossed it to Kris.  "Get what you need. I'll cover it."

Okay, wow.  Kris wasn't actually expecting Gee to cut him a literal blank check.  He knew Gee more-or-less trusted him but it was still surprising to be handed concrete proof.  "Do you have a specs document?"

"We're gonna need to poke around too," Glitch mentioned as Gee rummaged through the half-emptied box behind the counter, finally coming up with a branded data chip.  Glitch was already copying the blueprints from the shared folders Kris had already saved.  Draghos' icon flashed amber for a second as Skellington redirected processing capacity to whatever plans Glitch was brewing up and Kris' suite picked up the slack.  "Make sure we know where all the holes are and stuff."

Gee grunted.  That was probably a yes, Kris decided as he slotted the chip into his wrist-comp and Masks, his facilitation program, booted up to start parsing the requirements. "All right. Give us an hour or two and we should have some idea of what we need to do."

Glitch was already poking at the front door as his wrist-comp’s status lights flashed to life.  Gee looked at him, then back at Kris and nodded, going back to the paperwork he must have been working on before they arrived. He pulled out a calculator that had probably originally belonged to a T-Rex and let them get to work.

It took three hours in the end, rather than the one or two Kris had expected but it was worth it.  He hadn't worked with Glitch on a project like this for _years_.  They spent the first hour tracking every wire they found and updating the blueprints as they paced out the rooms and hallways.  Gee managed somehow to be always be just there and kept track of the hundred and one things they were going to need.  He turned out to be useful.  When Kris was looking up at the wires hanging out of the half-assed ceiling installation and contemplating just bouncing off the wall, Gee boosted him up.  He hefted Kris' entire weight as easily as Kris could have lifted a stress ball.

They were nearly done when Gee got a call from Drey.  Then they were hustled down to the studio and pointed at the Melville-brand coffee machine taking up half the wall.  It took all of the fifteen minutes they had before Drey arrived to get it running properly. The first pot was just filled when the door crashed open as Drey bounced in.

His hair was six different shades of blue/indigo and his eyes were rainbow-irised.  Today's outfit was also all blue, a mix of patterns and textures that should have looked ridiculous but somehow, Drey made it work. 

"Coffee, coffee, coffee, coffee!!"  Drey breezed right past Glitch without seeming to notice him and kissed Kris' cheek enthusiastically.  "I love you.  You know that right?  Not as much as my Viking hunk, but you fixed my coffee machine...it's close."

"I'm sure he'd be flattered and totally reassured to hear that," Kris said dryly and Glitch snorted and tried to pretend he wasn't laughing.  Right on cue, Gee growled from the doorway where he hadn't been a second ago.  "Spoken for both ways, remember?"

Glitch started to full on giggle, choking on the cup of coffee Kris handed him.  Kris rolled his eyes.  He was used to caffeine-induced declarations of love.

"Yeah, but ya know..." Drey batted his eyes at Gee and Kris indiscriminately.  One of these days, Gee wasn't going to believe Drey was just teasing and Kris was going to die. Drey was making orgasmic noise over the coffee when his phone rang.  Drey actually carried a phone and Glitch was staring at him over his coffee cup, fascinated.  Kris was never sure if Drey intended it as an ironic fashion choice or if he just couldn't sit still long enough to have the phone splice installed.  Drey didn't look at them, just sipped his coffee as he chirruped.  "Go for Drey!"

He straightened up suddenly and Kris turned to look at him. "'Fyre? No." There was a pause.  "I guess I can take a message, sure."

"Why is someone calling him to get a message to 'Fyre and not you?" Glitch whispered.

Kris frowned.  "I don't know."

He was damn well going to find out though.  Glitch took a look at him and the chat-bot in the corner of Kris' eye connected.  Glitch didn't actually write anything but the window floated in the corner of his vision as Drey kept talking.  He'd put the coffee down, a very bad sign, and was scribbling on some paper.

"Uh huh... Okay... uh huh.... Cheeks?  Yeah, I got it.  I'll pass it on.  You got a contact for payment?"

The chat window refreshed.  Glitch was playing with his wrist-comp, not looking at Drey or Kris.

`Glitch[ROOT]: That sounds like a job`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: I know`

`Glitch[ROOT]: I thought 'Fyre was retired.`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: He is.`

"Gottit," Drey stopped writing.  "I'll pass it on.  Thanks."

"What's up?"  Kris asked, putting down his coffee. 

Drey was frowning, shoulders rounded as he looked at the page.  "Corp just put a contract out on a merc I know back on the West Coast."

"A merc you know?" Glitch asked, looking back at Gee who was still filling the door behind him.  "I thought he was the merc?"

"I can know more than one merc-" Drey started with an audible eye-roll, breaking off as he actually looked at Glitch and realized he was a new person.  "Hi, I'm Drey, who are you?"

"Glitch, J's friend."

"Who's the corp?" Kris demanded.

"Oh. Hi," Drey wagged his fingers at Glitch, looking sidelong at Kris.  "Is he ... a Corp kid? 'Cause I so don't need Fortress busting in our door."

`Glitch[ROOT]: I'll Corp-kid him!!!`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: Easy, Drey's just being careful.`

"Really not," Kris promised.  Glitch was sputtering with outrage and he banged his mug down.  Kris ignored him.  "And this guy's got Fortress on his tail?"

"Oh... um.... I didn't just say that." Drey fiddled with the paper and didn't meet Kris' eyes.

Fortress meant bad shit.  The security contracting company was only ranked third on the east coast but they all but ran the non-Gauntlet parts of San D.  Kris had spent five years with the Zombies who hated Fortress more than anything and he knew all of Fortress' dirty tricks.  They were relentless, vindictive and owned more firearms that God.  Setting parameters and setting the suite to track this 'Cheeks' down was practically reflex.  There was a nagging sense that he'd heard that name somewhere but where?

Glitch, who might honestly have been offended or just covering for him, was glowering at Drey.  "The closest thing he's got to corp friends is you two."

Honestly offended then.  Fuck.  Glitch was pretty laid back in general but he hated corps more than the rest of DEx put together.  He'd lost his whole family to corp overreach; collateral damage in some long forgotten fight over lobbyists.  It was pure karma that the hush money had paid for Glitch's education and his first serious deck.  Kris tried to think of it that way when he thought of it at all.

"We're not corp," Drey objected shrilly, waving his hands and Kris sighed.  Drey had a new ring on his left ring finger, Kris noted as he ducked the hand holding the phone.  Too dull to be silver, possibly polished steel?  He leaned back as Drey stabbed a finger practically up Glitch's nose.   "We're small business owners!"

"Fortress?" Kris said, raising his voice as they glared at each other.  "That's not a good corp to cross."

"Small business?"  Glitch sniffed, lip curling.  "A 'small business' making how many millions a quarter?

"If we could get back to the merc with the price on his head?"  Kris tried without much hope.

"Drey, focus!"

Gee's bark made all three of them jump.  Glitch caught Kris' eye and his shoulders slumped a little.  This wasn't over but he'd leave it for now.  Drey had crossed to Gee, settling against his side with one arm looped around Gee's waist.  "This merc, well, ex-merc technically, he runs guns in the Gauntlet and a couple of other places.  Mostly San D, LA and NYC and well, sometimes he requisitions from Fortress.  He doesn't always fill out the paperwork, if you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," Kris said.  He'd paid most of his rent to the Zombies by tidying up paperwork on the guns they sold out of the ganglands.  Was that where he knew the name from?  "I knew a couple of those."

"He got a name?" Glitch asked.

Drey flicked him a dismissive glance, directing the answer to Kris.  "His handle is Cheeks."

"Cheeks..." Kris thought about it.  The name was familiar; he'd never actually dealt with the fixers who supplied the guns but he'd picked up a few names.  Chronos' icon was flashing as the program cross-referenced with Kris' own records.  "I know that name."

"He ran for the Zombies, didn't he?"  Glitch confirmed.

"Yeah," Kris nodded as Chronos flashed up confirmation.  That explained how _Kris_ knew the guy... "But how do you know him?"

Drey gulped and pressed a little closer to Gee.  He wouldn't meet Kris' eyes and for a second, it didn't look like he was going to answer.  When he did finally speak, he kept his eyes on the floor.  "I don't really. Only met him a couple of times. 'Fyre knows him better."

Kris opened his mouth to ask, as patiently he could, what Drey meant by that but Gee answered the obvious question. "'Fyre's ex."

Oh.  Kris blinked slowly as Nox popped up the relevant information.  That was news to him.  He looked at Gee, eyebrow rising.

Gee shrugged.  "'Fyre has an old monitoring job logged on a couple of servers in San D.  Pays for info on certain people.  Cheeks is on the list.  Drey too, and Firecracker.  Probably a few more."

Drey nodded, glancing up then back at the floor.  "Yeah, about 10 names total from what I remember."

"There's something I'm missing here," Kris said flatly and Drey flinched.

"'Fyre may have... um..." Drey stuttered and Kris folded his arms, prepared to wait the whole damn day if that's what it took.  Drey sighed, shoulders slumping as he leaned into Gee.  "’Fyre may have cheated on Cheeks while they were sort of dating."

"'Fyre was dating this guy?" Glitch looked over at Kris. 

"...and he cheated on him?" Kris pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in.

"Yeah," Drey was nodding, words tumbling out.  Drey could talk for the States at an Olympic level but even for him, this was hysterically fast.  "Cheeks and 'Fyre were a little explosive.  Huge fights, big scenes and back together at the end of the night, you know?  They went out for a while and then 'Fyre met someone and clicked with him and then the drama got too much for him.  Cheeks is high maintenance, very high maintenance."

Kris looked at him and Drey trailed off.  "He cheated on Cheeks with you, didn't he?"

Drey wilted, curling closer to Gee and hiding his face against Gee's suit jacket.  "Yeah."

"Jesus," Glitch breathed.  Kris cut him off with a sharp gesture.

"Okay," Kris was going to shelve the 'cheating' thing until he had a chance to talk to Adam but that phone call suggested Cheeks was in trouble right now.  "So ‘Fyre's ex is in trouble with Fortress and 'Fyre has a tip-line set up to let him know?  I take it was an amicable break-up?"

"Not so much, no," Drey admitted.  "Neither of us are particularly proud of it and 'Fyre wouldn't do it now.  And... Yeah, Cheeks is in trouble.  There's a corp hit team closing in on him according to the call and I'm not sure how much time he has left before they find him.  I don't even know where he is!"

"Shit," Kris rubbed at his eyes. "Fine.  I'll handle it."

"I'll be back," Gee said quietly.  Kris nodded.  Drey was playing with the ring on his finger, lower lip wobbling and eyes bright with tears.  He was sniffling. Gee put an arm around Drey and gently steered him away.  Drey didn't look back, just clung to Gee and let himself be led off. 

Kris watched them, already planning as the chat window filled the left side of his vision.  The suite's icons were flashing as they worked.

`Glitch[ROOT]: We got Fortress.`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: Cool, we'll find him.`

`Glitch[ROOT]: Nothing on the official teams database.  As soon as I can jump an unsecured network, I'll get SYS to crack the contractor's list.`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: Okay, we've got a lead on Cheeks. `

`DRAGHOS [HSSP-01]: _Subject's credit rating was queried from GANYMEDE BAR & CABERET, located within a 7.5 km radius of current location, less than four minutes ago._`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: You head back to the apartment, talk to SYS.  I'll handle him.`

`Glitch[ROOT]: You sure?`

`Juniper[HIJACK]: Yes.`

Gee reappeared at the door.  There was no sign of Drey and Kris flicked his eyes over the hibernate command.  Glitch had already filled both their travel mugs with coffee.  He was tapping out a rapid staccato beat on the counter, eager to be gone.  Kris knew exactly how he felt. 

"You need anything to do this?" Gee offered, taking them both in with a glance.

"No, it's fine," Kris tucked his toolkit away.

"Call if that changes."

That was very nearly an order and from anyone else, Kris would have been bristling but he was used to the black hole where Gee should have had social skills.

"We can handle it," Kris promised.  "We'll be back tomorrow to finish the install."

Gee regarded him for another moment and then nodded crisply.  "Figure I don't have to tell you where the back door is."

"We got it," Kris grinned.  Glitch was bouncing on his toes, already mentally halfway out the door.  "See you tomorrow, Gee."

Gee held the door open for them and Kris was just hitting the sidewalk with Glitch on his heels when they heard the locks engage behind them.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Every city had its problems, little things that drove everyone nuts.  For San Diego, it was the Gauntlet and the never ending gang wars.  For Los Angeles, it was the personal re-breathers that everyone carried, just in case; at least everyone who hadn’t replaced their lungs.  For New York, it was the Dome.  Adam hated it, the endless stops, the roving patrols, cameras, and everything was about ID cards.  Adam had three, one for each security ring.  He had to pass through all three cordons to get to Gunfire's main offices.  According to the locals, it had been even worse since Trojan fell and DEx had announced their comeback in twelve foot LED brilliance. 

On an average morning, it took two solid hours to get from their apartment to Gunfire's corporate compound, but this morning it was worse, and it wasn't the increased security.  No.  That would have been understandable.  Several of the corps in Corp Central had been the targets of merc violence the previous evening and street security was running hotter and tighter than Adam had ever seen to promote a sense of order.  It was an illusion though because while they spent longer looking at the cards, they didn't look at anything else. 

That wasn't the reason that Adam's morning was going to hell, though.  After a series of meetings and counter-meetings and one major blowout on Adam's part, the label had assigned Adam two bodyguards.  Adam hadn't let them come anywhere near the apartment, because old habits die hard and he didn’t like the idea of a corp knowing where Kris was.  Instead, they had picked him up at a small coffee shop about six blocks away from the apartment.  According to all the records the label had on him, Adam lived upstairs there in a small apartment rented from the owner of the coffee shop, Clarize.

Clarize was a street-momma, one of many that took care of the street kids that had nowhere else to go.  She and the women that made up her network, took in the kids, gave them a place to stay, hot food and a second chance at a life that had already kicked them in the teeth.  Local clinics run by volunteers, soup kitchens and play groups; it all cost money and Adam was only too happy to help out.  He did his bit, dropping a couple of hundred bucks into the tip jar when he saw a new face helping out in the coffee shop.  And for five hundred a month, Clarize would hold any mail that came for him and give him a heads up whenever anyone came calling.  He had a space to park his bike out back and a key-code for the backdoor so that he could pop through and appear to have come from upstairs whenever anyone was looking for him. 

Rocky and Harley could have been ordered straight from the standard corp security catalog; huge, hulking slabs of muscle that talked tough but couldn't back it up.  They carried standard nine mil _Beretta_ s that hadn't been cleaned in months and armor that had seen much better days.  Adam would have said that they were decorative only, but they weren't even that.  They'd shown up fifteen minutes late that morning, complete with a driver and a black Escalade.  No apology and no explanation. On top of that, they’d spent the entire trip talking back and forth about the game the night before.  Adam had stared out the window; focused on not just shooting the fuckwits and tracking their progress as they drove through the streets.

They stopped at a mobile checkpoint and Adam saw a worker in sweaty overalls changing the e-sign’s programming and the plasma flicker-flashed to light and Adam found himself looking up into the cold, dead eyes of a perfectly sculpted model, all angles and sharp edges and not even remotely human.  Adam wondered if that was the look that Drey would go for when his signs were flashing all over the city.  He hoped not.

Adam’s ID had gotten him straight swept but Harley couldn't find his wallet when the guard had called him forward.  The brainless poser had patted himself down from head to toe five times, as if it would magically appear if he just patted himself enough.  They’d been pulled aside and spent forty-five endless minutes sitting under the massive anti-tank batteries that guarded the bridge until at last, a dispatcher arrived with a set of temporary ID tags.  Adam said nothing but gritted his teeth.  He'd promised Case that he'd try this insane experiment for a solid week before he started his next round of arguments.  So far, it was the only thing that they hadn't agreed on.  He recorded a couple of demo tracks.  He'd signed the contract.  He'd even given his approval to start looking at candidates for a backing band that would work with him.  The bodyguards were the sticking point.

Black attack helicopters circled overhead, each wearing their parent corporation’s logo.  Even as he watched, he could see a dogfight taking place.  It was just a minor scuffle, two rivals shuffling for the best positions, the best angles of attack and defense.  It was a never ending aerial ballet with missiles and miniguns instead of ribbons and skirts.  He didn't like all the activity but with corporate paranoia at an all time high, he’d been expecting it.  DEx's comeback had everyone on alert.  It took another hour to get to the label's compound - three more impromptu checkpoint stops and one brief diversion through a drive thru coffee shop so that Rocky could get his morning fix of Java - before the driver had to let them out outside the gates.  Adam only had to put up with the asinine ramblings of Rocky and Harley for another few minutes - and started towards the security gate. 

Adam frowned as he stepped into the booth for the security scan.  Gunfire's security was on a fixed schedule; three shifts, two days on and one day off and no variation.  Adam knew the rota at this stage, and the guy behind the desk this morning, Rick by his ID tag, wasn't a familiar face.  It was possible that he was a replacement, a last minute call in, but something about 'Rick' made Adam suspicious.  Whether it was instinct or paranoia, there was definitely something off about the guy.   The guy's uniform was the standard issue cotton fiber mix, all the insignia correct and in the right place.  His name tag was straight and the same etched metal standard that all the guards wore.  The shirt was tight though, pulling at the buttons as he stood there.  The sleeves were tight to his biceps, just shy of cutting in.  Adam moved a little closer and glanced over the desk.  The guy’s trousers were an inch too short.  Most damning of all, his gun was wrong.  All Gunfire security personnel were issued with Berettas but this guy had a Colt strapped to his hip.  Small things but enough to add up to a big problem and one that Adam just couldn't ignore.

"Morning," Adam smiled, "Fred not in this morning?  I know he was feeling a bit wobbly yesterday.  His eldest had the flu."

"Yeah, called in sick," 'Rick' replied.

"Well, give him my best when you talk to him.  Tell him I got the creds I owe him.  It'll teach me not to bet against a man on a streak," Adam schooled his face, hiding his worry under a false smile. 

There was no one called Fred working security in Gunfire.  Adam looked around, if one security guard had been replaced at the gate, there was a high probability that the two others watching screens in the back room were compromised too.  He needed to get to the main building and talk to security there.  Recording artists weren't supposed to be concerned with things like security or the day-to-day processes of the corporation, but after years of living by his wits, there were some things that Adam just couldn't switch off.  It might turn out to be nothing, and if it was, then he'd apologize and get to his ten o'clock meeting just as soon as he could, but if it wasn't...  Well, then he'd do what he had to do to keep himself and everyone else safe. 

Adam said goodbye to 'Rick' and passed through the gate to where Harley and Rocky were waiting, checking their watches and rolling their eyes at the delay.  Adam got that they dealt with artists every day, and were used to bullying their way through any objections put in front of them, but they didn't even come close to intimidating Adam.  They hadn’t even noticed anything was wrong.  Adam was better off without their ‘help’. 

Adam walked, not rushing and not too slow.  He kept his shoulders relaxed and didn’t make a show of looking around just in case anyone was watching.  He didn't want to give the game away yet, or let them know that he'd figured out that something was wrong, but his eyes never stopped moving. 

Two execs walking from one building to another, folders clutched tight?  Not armed, not a threat. 

Two security guards taking a patrol? Had he seen them before?  Yes, last Wednesday.  Regular patrol time?  Yes, on schedule.

Cameras?  Not moving.  Drones hovering over the compound's courtyard?  None.  Normally there were at least fifteen.  Unusual, but they could be deployed elsewhere.

Black Escalade parked in front of the main office building?  No plates, dark windows.  Bingo!

All Gunfire’s company cars were Escalades but even they weren't allowed inside the compound.  The closest they could come was the underground parking garage directly below the compound and from there, there were a hundred and one security measures protecting the compound.  Security AI's oversaw everything and according to Hijack's Little Helpers, they were fairly solid.  Well, what they’d actually said was a lot more technical and way over Adam’s head but the strong implication had been that anyone who stopped short of DEx's capabilities would have a tough time getting past them.  That wasn't to say that it couldn't be done.

Only the head of the company and some of the shareholders could get a car into the compound and they always drove their own cars; usually Bentleys or Jaguars although one vice-president had a Rolls-Royce that had more armor on it than any Cyber-SWAT team cruiser.  They never arrived in Escalades. 

"What's he looking at?" Rocky asked Harley, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

"Not a clue. Must have seen a backup singer, or one of the dancers.  You know what his type are like," Harley's voice was a little lower, but still well within the range of Adam's cyber augmentations.  "Hey did you see the girls they lined up for the vid shoot tomorrow?  Damn I got to get myself assigned to that."

Adam tuned them out.  He couldn't afford the distraction.  He moved past the Escalade, flipping his vision to thermographic with a flick of his eyes.  There were five warm bodies inside the car, all moving, all watching the front doors.  He could see the familiar outline of weapons; M-10’s with suppressors, AK-67’s and _Colt_ nine mils clutched in their hands, cold against the warmth of their bodies.  Sometimes, Adam hated being right. 

Calling up his phone menu with another eye flick, Adam sent a message to Hijack's Little Helpers:  _TARGETS IDENTIFIED AT FRONT DOOR BUILDING ONE GUNFIRE COMPOUND.  TARGETS IDENTIFIED AT MAIN SECURITY GATE GUNFIRE COMPOUND.  SCAN ALL FEEDS AND IDENTIFY ANY FURTHER TARGETS._

His relationship with the Helpers was a little odd at times.  Since moving to New York, he'd come to realize that they were a major part of Kris' online and offline life.  They monitored everything Kris did and because he was dating Kris, they monitored him too.  About two months back, Kris had forwarded him a number that he could send messages to that would connect directly to the Helpers.  Well, he’d thought that it was Kris at the time, but given what he’d seen them do since, he wouldn't put it past the Helpers to have done it themselves.  It had come via text message, after all.

It was a few seconds later before he got the confirmation and the reply:  _ADDITIONAL TARGETS LOCATED IN PARKING GARAGE.  GARAGE SECURED._

That meant that it was just these guys that Adam needed to worry about.  Adam walked through the automatic doors and made straight for the receptionist.  Cindy was a sweet girl and Adam breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn’t been hurt.  The main office hadn’t been hit yet.

Adam leaned in close, his voice low, "Cindy, can you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Mister Silverfyre," she blushed bright red, as she did whenever Adam said anything to her, "Anything."

"Can you go into the office behind your desk, lock the door and call security for me," Adam held up a hand as she opened her mouth.  "I need you to tell them that someone is about to try breaking in and to send troops down to the main lobby here.  Tell them that they need to send men to the main gate and the parking garage too.  Can you do that for me?"

Eyes wide and slightly panicked, Cindy nodded, "Uh huh."

Adam smiled encouragingly, "Good girl.  Now go on and lock the door after you, okay?"

Adam waited until he heard the lock engage before he turned.  Harley and Rocky were nowhere to be seen and for that Adam was glad.  The last thing he needed was to deal with guys who didn't know one end of a gun from the other.  Adam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  It took less than a second to run his eye down along the cyberware options, bringing everything online.  Adrenaline spiked through his system and his reflex boosters cut in.  The targeting scope tracked and centered, waiting for him to draw his guns and connect.

Adam popped his collar, thankful that he’d gone for the full length, heavy-armor coat that swept down to mid calf over the light armor jacket today.  His hands found the twin _Desert Eagle_ s holstered at the base of his spine. As he gripped them, connectors snaked out of his wrists and clicked into their ports.  Diagnostics flashed across his vision, green all the way.  Adam was already looking beyond them to the doors and beyond to the Escalade.

The Escalade's doors opened, the muzzles of their AK-67’s just peeking past the doors.  Followed a split second later by barrels and the men who held them.  The men moved like professionals, sleek and steady.  They wore black paneled armor, not the best but decent quality nonetheless, and Adam searched for obvious weak points.  The doors opened, leaving Adam with nowhere to hide.  Adam smirked to himself, just standing there with his feet apart, arms by his side and guns connected.  The lead guy faltered and that was all Adam needed.

Target locked, Adam brought his guns to bear and squeezed the trigger.  The lead guy was spun around by the impact.  The bullet hit him in the chest, ripping through the armor and shattering the bones beneath.  He cried out, surprise more than pain, and his companions opened fire.  Fully automatic rounds filled the air but Adam was already moving, dropping and spinning out of the way.  They tracked and Adam fired again, taking out an ankle and then a wrist.  Klaxons sounded behind him, but Adam tuned them out, focusing instead on the three men still standing.  Bullets hit him but Adam barely felt them.  Even the high caliber bullets were little more than dull thuds against the armor. Adam shrugged them off, running for the edge of the room. 

Theoretically, he was outgunned; submachine guns and fully-automatic rifles against two handguns.  On paper, Adam should be dead already.  In the real world? Adam was fully intending to be the last man standing.  Luck wasn't on the side of who had the biggest guns, but rather on the side of the better shots, and today, that was Adam.

He ran straight at the wall at full speed, taking one step, two and using the wall as a launching board to flip backwards. He got off two more perfect shots while they struggled to catch up.  One shot, dead center, had one man down and staring at the ceiling. As he gasped for breath, Adam dropped his friend right beside him with a shoulder shot.   That left one and he fought like a street brawler.  Screaming as he fired, his bullets tore through the wall behind Adam.  Adam simply ran for the man, forcing him back and back.  Then Adam dropped to slide along the floor, targeting and shooting as he went.  Two shoulder shots, left and then right, two wrist shots, left and then right and the guy’s gun hit the floor.  Another two shots, center mass, and the man himself was down.  Adam kicked to his feet and held ready, eyes sweeping over the men.  All five of them alive and writhing in pain: no fatalities: nothing to justify and no charges to answer.  Adam kicked their guns away, towards the reception desk and kept his guns trained on the men as they lay there, crying and cursing.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one guy grab a capsule of something from his pocket.  Adam’s eyes focused tight on the glass ampule; red glass with a black line about half way up.  Crimson, shit!  Adam moved, dialing his reflexes past the redline.  He released one of his guns, leaving it to hang by its connector wire and dived across the floor.  He caught the merc’s hand just before he could slot the capsule.  The ampule was just a click away from emptying its contents into the merc’s bloodstream when Adam’s hand closed around the merc’s hand.   Adam felt the glass break against the merc’s skin.  Adam delivered a solid cross to the guy’s jaw, augmented by the gun that was still clutched in that hand and the merc was out.

Adam searched through his pockets and pulled out another three capsules.  He crushed them under the heel of his boot.  Only then did he allow himself to relax.

Crimson was one of the worst combat drugs on the streets.  Slam that into your system and you’d fly.  A single shot of Crimson would turn a grandmother into a hostile killing machine who stopped seeing people and started seeing targets.  It blocked the pain receptors in the neural network and ramped up adrenaline and endorphin levels.  Adam had seen kids jacked up on Crimson ignore multiple gunshot wounds.

Adam hated combat drugs.  He was careful with what he put in his body, buying only from reputable suppliers and not settling for second class chemicals.  Not all mercs were that careful.  Some guys Adam had known even said the drugs were worth the risks for the chemical advantage.   Adam was still upright and breathing which was more than he would say for those idiots.  Adam had learned his lesson five years ago when he’d run into an unknown street punk with way more ambition than ability.  He’d realized that he was outgunned and outmatched and done the only thing he could think of to even the score:  He’d dropped Black – Crimson’s hyped-up, bigger, badder older brother.  For the first couple of minutes he’d been damn near invincible.  Adam’s bullets might as well have bounced off him and he’d even gotten some good hits in on Adam.  Adam had gotten his back against a wall and the kid had dropped a second dose.  His system hadn’t been able to handle it.  Adam had watched his nervous system fry right there in the street as his blood pressure sky-rocketed. Blood came pouring from everywhere and the kid’s screams had curdled Adam’s blood.  In three minutes flat, the guy was dead.  That was only one horror story.  Adam had hundreds more.

Even if you survived, there were other risks.  When you were flying on combat drugs, everyone was a target.  _Everyone_.  That was too much of a risk for Adam.

Adam’s grim train of thought was interrupted by the heavy footed pitter patter of jackboots. Adam moved slightly so that he could see security arriving while still keeping an eye on the downed men.  These security guards were dressed in what looked like cut-price riot gear, sleek black armor that would be hard pressed to stop a nine mil round and black helmets with face guards.  Adam’s lip curled.  If this was the best Gunfire’s security could manage, Adam was going to have a long talk with Case. These idiots would have been lucky not to lose at least a quarter of their number if these guys had made it past Adam.  A couple of them even aimed their guns in his direction but the guy in charge put a hand up before they could pull the trigger. 

The man raised his visor, and Adam recognized Piezzo, the security chief, a Ret5 who used to run up and down the East Coast, and so far, he was the only one who’d treated Adam like the merc he was rather than some two bit dog-and-pony show brought in for the execs’ amusement.

"Silverfyre?  What the fuck is going on here?" he asked.

"Hey Piezzo," Adam nodded his direction, "Caught these guys trying to do a run on you so I thought I'd help out.  They need a little bit of medical attention but they should have no problem answering your questions.  You've got at least one hostile in the main gate, and more in the parking garage."

Piezzo nodded his head, and his guys started securing the injured mercs.

"I know," Piezzo pulled off his helmet and looped the strap of his gun over his head and shoulders, "Receptionist called.  Both groups are secured.  You got an explanation for me?"

"I just happened to be standing in the lobby when they came in?" Adam shrugged.

"Uh huh," Piezzo transparently didn't believe him, and Adam didn't care.  "Get outta here."

"Sure thing, Piezzo," Adam holstered his guns and disconnected. 

He threw a mock salute at the security chief and started powering down his combat 'ware.  The adrenaline started to drain away slowly.  He'd need a power bar soon if he was going to beat the crash.  Kris always made sure that he had a couple tucked away in a pocket, just in case; his own holdover from the old days.  He took one more look around the lobby.  Gunshots lined the walls, puckering the plaster even on the back wall.  Even on the back wall, the office wall, the office that Cindy had locked herself into.  Adam cursed.  He moved past the security troops and hopped the reception desk, knocking on the solid door of the office. 

"Cindy?" Adam called through the door, "You okay in there?"

He heard the lock click and the door opened a fraction to reveal Cindy who was brandishing a …stapler.  Adam relaxed, biting back a laugh.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she could barely manage a whisper and Adam squeezed her hand. 

"You got some friends in the building you can call?"

She nodded.

"Good," Adam pushed the door open.  "You want to call them and have them take you to the dining room for coffee?  Security are going to be in the lobby for a while.  I'm sure no-one will mind if you take your break now."

"Okay..."

Adam stayed with Cindy until her friends arrived and led her down to the staff dining room.  She was shaken, but Adam figured that with a sympathetic ear and a strong coffee, that she'd be okay.

"Silverfyre," Case called him from down the corridor.

Adam, on the other hand, might not get off quite so easy.

"What the hell is this that I'm hearing?  You were involved in a security incident?  You shot five armed intruders?"  Case didn't seem to be stopping for air.  Adam had seen Glitch do this once, and honestly he didn't know how they did it.  "What the hell is the point of assigning you bodyguards if you just step in yourself.  Damn it, 'Fyre, we can't afford to lose any time.  We gotta get your first track out there while the city is still high from that review on TheBuZZ.  What would have happened if you'd been shot?  Oh my god, you haven't been shot, have you?"

Adam shook his head, "I'm fine, Case.  You worry worse than my boyfriend," Adam smiled, "but those bodyguards that you assigned to me?  They were useless.  They missed the fake security guard at the main gate.  They missed the Escalade parked right outside.  They were gone before I could say anything to them.  If this is the kind of bodyguard that you want me to carry around, then no.  I don't care, Case, but they're more of a hindrance than anything else."

"You promised that you'd stick with it a week," Case' voice rose with frustration, "Damnit, 'Fyre, it's been a day.  No, it hasn't even been a day.  It's barely been _four hours_."

Adam held up his hands, "I said I'd stick with it, and I will, but Case, you've got to let me pick my own guys.  We're in meetings for the next couple of hours.  Let me make some calls and get some guys here.  If they pass the security check, you can put them on the payroll as my bodyguards for the rest of the week.  If it works out, you can extend their contracts.  What do you say?"

Case thought about it for a few seconds but gave in, "Fine.  Make your calls."

Adam smiled.  He had a couple of mercs in mind.  They'd applied for jobs in _Idolize:NYC_ but after all the jobs had been filled.  Ex-mercs with solid reps who were looking to settle down and get out of the game.  They were rated by the Ring of Honor, the East Coast’s answer to the more elite Iron Circle and every one of them was rated in single digits.  Dangerous people, but people Adam could trust to keep their eyes open and aware of what was going on around them.  Adam had put them through their paces during their interview and they were on the short list for the next vacancy.  Allison would probably forgive him for poaching...  Probably.

That done, Adam stepped into the meeting room and into the hell that was another day of meetings.  It was only his desire to get through this and on to the recording session that evening that kept him going.  Well, that and two power bars.  The meetings went well, wrapping early, and the recording session was a dream.  He'd listened to a hundred musicians picked by the label, some butchering his tracks and some elevating them to where Adam wanted them and, in some cases, beyond that. 

There was a flirtatious blond who played bass like he was born with an ax in his hand, and claimed that he was straight.  Adam looked forward to seeing him proved wrong.  There was an older guy who spent most of the interview talking about his twins and how they had picked out a tune on their play piano the day before and then rocked out harder than anyone else in the lineup.  Then there was the guy with dreads and an old school black and white sleeve tattoo who spent ten minutes bitching about the drum setup, five minute fixing them and then hit the stratosphere as he put his own spin on the one of Adam's favorite tracks.  Finally a woman who arrived in an evening dress on her way to her sister's wedding had unfolded her own keyboard and laid down some runs that had blown Adam's mind.  There were others but those four were his favorites. 

The execs shook their heads and argued for other people, claiming they'd look better behind him but Adam had stood firm.  He'd won the fight about looks versus talent and now, he had a shortlist for his backing band.  He just needed to get the Helpers to do a full check on them to sideline any potential problems. 

Everything worked out and Case sent him home early.  Adam was practically floating as he settled into the car, not focused on anything but the fact that he was going to get home at a reasonable hour and see his boy for longer than the hiya/bye-ya that they'd been doing recently. 

When he actually got home, he found Glitch cheek down on his deck, drool running freely from the corner of his mouth, but no sign of Kris.  Adam checked his phone but no messages from Kris and no alerts from the Helpers.  Pulling a throw from the couch, Adam threw it over Glitch and put a pillow under his head.  Kris said data runners couldn't feel anything while they were jacked in, but Glitch could bitch for hours about the crick in his neck when he forgot his pillow. 

Adam made his way into their room.  He could feel the day wearing on him.  He grabbed a cotton ball and his makeup remover and sat down on the bed.  Kris wouldn't be long.  He could wait up for him, surprise him.  Adam smiled.  He rubbed the cotton wool over his cheek and then...


	5. Chapter 5

Kris enabled the full functionality of the NINJA program as they hurried down the street.  Glitch's mind was already halfway home and Kris spent the few long minutes that it took to find an alley to work out what to do.  Glitch was making a show of looking up at the solid-light billboards projecting up from the roofs.  Kris hated the billboards and the alien ‘models’ that cluttered them.  It took seven separate operations, including the removal of most of the digestive tract and skeletal re-structuring, to make a model and Kris thought their dead eyes looked like something straight out of a nightmare.

There weren't a lot of casual shoppers around but enough that they couldn't risk running until they were off the main street.  Kris sent a parameter set to one of the other programs.  The Dome's security logs would be updated, showing him and Glitch leaving in about a half an hour.  It gave them just about enough time to get in place.

Glitch didn't object to being sent home.  He'd started joining Kris on his morning trips to the dojo but as the sensei had said while he was having his nose reset, Glitch was temperamentally unsuited to the disciplines of a structured martial art.  Glitch's big advantage in a fight was his absolute insanity; he didn't much like fighting but when he had to, he'd do anything he could to take the other guy down.  He knew enough to terrify a mugger and potentially to surprise a merc if he was backed into a corner by one.  By mutual agreement, they'd decided that was enough.

"Standard full-spectrum," Kris said as they ducked through one of the holes in the Dome's security; a dead-end with a fence that wasn't wired into the security net.  Some considerate soul had even parked a dumpster right beside it and it took them less than fifteen seconds to pass through and slip onto the back of a SeCURE courier van heading the right way down First Avenue.  The trucks had a step on the back for additional staff.  Kris hung on, most of his attention on the flickering electronic data.

"Got it," Glitch nodded once.  "Tag me when you're ready to start."

Kris nodded back and they split up on the far side of the 278-checkpoints.  Kris threaded through some of the shops.  The area outside the Dome’s lowest class was one of the busiest in the city, plenty of crowds to lose himself in.  Kris kept his head down heading for the station on 3rd Avenue.  He detoured through a cafe, crammed with people and casually snagged a faded black hoody from the back of a chair, dropping a credchip with a hundred bucks into the bag beside the chair.

He crossed the street, took the second left and pulled it on as he fished out his goggles.  The inner-eye display was only really useful for diagnostics and running pre-coded programs.  Kris wouldn't do any of the heavy lifting, that was up to SYS and Root but inner-eye display and wrist-comp weren't going to be enough.  His goggles were still bulky.  The style was almost old enough to count as classic and Adam had offered a dozen times to buy him better ones.  Kris had checked out the current styles, all of them stripped down and simple and while he could have upgraded them to meet his needs quite easily; none of them were big enough to hide the shape of his face like his current pair would.

With the goggles on and the hood hiding his hair and casting shadows over his face, Kris could weave through the crowd.  The hoody was too big, hanging off his shoulders and sagging nearly to his knees.  He could fit his whole bag under it and no-one would notice.  The right hand sleeve was ragged and it hadn't been washed in days. It was perfect.

Kris thumbed aside the seal on his left hand plug as he joined a crowd of people shuffling onto the Metro.  He had a mono-edged wire cutter in his bag that easily sliced the inside of the hoody's pocket.  By the time he took his seat in the corner of one of the carriages, Kris was plugged into his deck and the virtual world scrolled past as he set to work.

He was only riding for eight stops.  A couple of well-timed signal failures turned the ten minute ride into twenty-two minutes and by the time Kris had to redirect his attention to walking through the ticket barriers, most of the work was done.  SYS was putting the finishing touches on the server redirects, her icon flashing in the toolbar currently floating in the upper left of Kris' vision. 

Kris pulled on his gloves, flexing his fingers to align the connective threads. Outside the station, a light drizzle of rain was falling and the people in front of him were shaking out umbrellas.  Kris tugged his hood further forward and kept his head down as he slowed down to stay with the crowd.

It was easy to do.  Washington Heights was the merc equivalent of Wall Street.  The whole street was full of bars; there were no trees and only a couple of public terminals dotted along the street, pockmarked with bullet holes.  The nearest Cyber-SWAT team was fifteen blocks away as the AV flew.  There weren't even any advertising hoardings or recessed doorways for cover which meant anyone looking for a fight was either brain-numbingly stupid or suicidal.  The non-merc commuters who took the shortcut stayed bunched together, heads down, and walked fast.

Kris brought up the mapping program with a flick of his eye.  The flashing amber dot that represented Cheeks was still in the bar across the street.  There were fifteen red dots in the bar with him.  Only half of them had tags and Kris cursed softly.  He fucking hated running without all the intel but there wasn't time to waste waiting.  His left hand flexed.

`HIJACK: Let's do this`

`SYS: Confirm`

`ROOT: Confirm.  Green on your word.`

Kris crossed the street, dodging between a couple of cabs and into the bar.  The _Spent Round_ wasn't the shiniest bar on the street but it was the one where the serious mercs drank.  Even at - Kris flicked a glance at the clock in the bottom right of his vision - eleven thirty in the morning, most of the tables were full.  So were the booths but Kris had expected that.  Fixer Alley, as most of the data runners in NYC knew it, was open for business 24/7 to anyone with the cred to back up their curiosity.

It also didn't surprise him that Cheeks had a booth.  Kris bought a beer and retreated to where there were some old chairs lined up against the wall in the back.  He took a seat beside the fire exit and sipped at his beer.  He could see Cheeks, sipping casually at a cocktail with a sparkly rainbow umbrella.  Kris hid a smile behind his beer.  He would have loved to know how Cheeks had managed that in a bar where most people would be lucky to get a clean glass and the only beers were the cheap domestic on tap.  He leaned back against the wall, casually locking the door beside him under cover of putting his beer on the floor.  He could see a few of faces that he recognized from Fortress' contractors list and he breathed out.  Then he looked up at the vid-screen which was currently showing some flavor of sport. 

`HIJACK: Rock and Roll, kids.`

The picture dissolved into static to the immediate displeasure of half the bar.  The barman ducked back to fiddle with the settings as Kris skimmed down the list of commands.  The static began to resolve in to a rippling pattern.  Angry murmurs started to edge into confusion and Kris very carefully didn't smile.  There was another hushed gasp as the pattern resolved.  It was very simple.  Just three letters repeating over and over in unending lines that filled the screen.

DEx.

Everyone was looking at the screen by now and Kris tapped confirmation into the steady loop of data.  The screen resolved into a simple black background with green text, borrowed from TheBuZZ and SYS' introduction started to scroll down the screen.

"`Greetings friends and criminals!`

`This is an automated alert courtesy of the DEx foundation for Honest Work.`

`Do YOU know where your nearest CORP-OWNED BOUNTY HUNTER is?`

`With federal attention making branding your hired killers legally inadvisable, many corporations are choosing to outsource their bullying to hired thugs.  This coincides with the launch of Corp Spring Cleaning season so any individuals who may, through whatever means, have come into contact with information that a corporation would rather they didn't have are advised to consult the following list to find the bounty hunter most likely to be targeting you and take appropriate steps.`

`_Deus Ex_` "

The screen dissolved to show a live feed of Fortress' contractor tracking database.  God bless good old corporate paranoia.  Fortress liked to know exactly where their bought-and-paid for assets were and the database updated live every 1.025 seconds.  There was a second of silence as the files scrolled past; too fast for Kris to take in but the perfect speed for a merc with jacked reaction times to pick out every detail.  The first three individuals in the bar to be listed were the ones that Kris and Glitch had confirmed as the primary team hunting Cheeks. 

A merc the size of a mail-truck, bulging with vat-grown muscle and probably high on steroids, threw the first punch.  Kris ducked as a gunshot rang out and he just had time to see Cheeks with a smoking gun in one hand before the whole bar erupted.  There were more gunshots as some of Fortress' people tried to break out.  A plan doomed before they started. There were more than forty angry mercs between them and the front door.  Kris ducked aside as two of the smarter mercs made a break for the fire door.  The lock held - not surprisingly, given the crime rate in NYC - and before they could figure out what to do next, there were more gunshots.

Kris wove through the crowd, keeping his head down.  He hesitated just long enough to be sure that the three men he'd marked out were dead.  It was also just long enough for one of the bar's patrons to try and break a chair over his head.  Kris dodged and the chair shattered.

"Gotta hate that cheap plastic," Kris said cheerfully and clapped his hand down on the guy's wrist.  He could smell the beer, thick as city smog on the guy's breath, and he smiled.  "Reboot."

The verbal command was barely above a whisper but he felt the jolt as the wrist-comp's spare capacitor discharged in a series of rapid-burst pulses.  The charge flowed down though the conductive thread inside the gloves and into the poor bastard’s plug.  The pulses forced a hard reboot of any cyberware plugged into the guy.  He crumpled and Kris let him go. 

Outside the rain was drying off.  Kris kept his head down and hurried along the street.  There were gunshots from a few of the other bars and it was easy to join the crowds hurrying for the dubious safety of the station.  The rest of the crowd shoved their way onto the train idling at the platform.  Kris closed his eyes for a second.

`HIJACK: Mission Accomplished `

He ejected the cord, letting it spool back into the deck and stripped off his gloves and goggles as he passed behind some of the bigger pillars.  Then he shrugged out of the hoody, dropping it into a rubbish hatch and swinging his bag back up over his shoulder.  He turned down the NINJA program, letting it obscure him from the dozens of security cameras scattered around as he crossed calmly to the train on the far platform and took his seat.  The doors closed and Kris relaxed just a fraction as the train's engines hummed and they pulled out.

"I know you."

The voice didn't actually come from behind him.  Kris still jumped and there was a confused second.  When Kris blinked, he had Cheeks' wrist pinned to the window and the merc himself was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and neatly pursed lips.  No, Kris corrected himself, not looking at Kris.  Cheeks was looking down at the tail of the tattoo glowing blue-green around his elbow.

"I do," Cheeks had a surprisingly light voice with a Texan drawl that more than a decade in LA hadn't softened.  He was wearing make-up, just a touch of eye shadow and lip gloss that should have made him look like a diva but like Adam in full 'Fyre gear, Cheeks looked dangerous.  "I know you."

"I think you're mistaken," Kris let go of his wrist, scooting back.

"Oh honey," Cheeks put both hands on his hips.  "Don't even try.  I never forget a face."

"Given that I don't think we've ever met before, I don't see what that's got to do with anything."

"Tch, fine," Cheeks rolled his eyes.  "I never forget a face _or_ a custom ink job.  You used to be the Zombie's runner, didn't you?"

Kris flicked a glance at the rest of the train.  It wasn't likely that anyone here would recognize the name but Kris was going to kill Cheeks himself if the fucking idiot got the NYPD called on him as a ganger.

"Don't worry your pretty little head," Cheeks flopped into the seat beside him and Kris felt his heart-rate kick up.  He deliberately relaxed his hands and shoulders and steadied his breathing.  His bio-monitor hadn't flagged it as a problem yet but Kris wasn't the only one it reported to anymore and from how Drey had stammered over the story, Adam would not be happy if he ran into Cheeks in a mad dash to rescue Kris.  "They're sheep.  No-one here is paying us any attention."

Kris let his gaze dip to take in the tight leather pants, the faux-silk shirt and the high-heeled boots.  All of them armored.  The only place no-one would pay any attention to Cheeks was a circus or a strip-show.  He let his own eyebrow kick up and Cheeks smiled.

"Don't hate because I'm fabulous, baby."

"I promise that's not why I hate you," Kris smiled despite himself.  Cheeks' smile shifted into a grin.

"Oooh, kitty has claws," Cheeks clapped his hands.  "I approve.  But bitch-faces later, we were talking about you."

"You were talking about me," Kris corrected.  "I was trying to get home."

"You're stubborn.  I like it!"

"I don't know you and your delusions aside, you don't know me," Kris kept one hand on his bag.  Cheek's default expression seemed to be aloof condescension but Kris had seen the gun and the shot - fired before any other of the other mercs in _Spent Round_ and bang on target.  He wasn't under any illusions.  If Kris provoked him far enough, Cheeks would hurt him.  Possibly even...

"Don't make that face," Cheeks sniffed.  "I'm not going to punch out the man that just saved my - admittedly fine - ass from Fortress."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit, you don't," Cheeks sniffed.  "I told you - I know you.  I even know your name."

Kris' heart skipped a beat but he deliberately squashed down the panic that came swarming up.  There was no way.  No chance that they'd misjudged that badly?  Kris' mind started to race, assessing and discarding plans.  If Cheeks was Crusader's agent, then Kris was going to have to-

"Juniper."

Kris blinked.  That...was not what he'd expected Cheeks to say.

"You are, I know you are," Cheeks leaned in closer.  "You tidied up the paperwork for the Zombies.  The best data runner they ever had."

Kris snorted.  Most of the Zombies were over-cybered drug addicts with attention/retention problems.  Being better than a Zombie at coding was like being a better cyclist than a squid.

"Up until you left," Cheeks continued and Kris tensed.  "Right after DEx dropped Trojan.  I did a little digging."

Shit, shit, _shit_.

"A runner who can call in DEx?  You're the one that got them in, aren't you?"

What?  Kris stared at him.

"DEx must have been looking for an opportunity like that for years," Cheeks carried on and Kris blinked.  "No-one ever looks at the deck a data runner is carrying around so you could just walk right past security and open up a connection from inside the facility."

Kris rubbed at his cheek, more to make sure his jaw wasn't hanging open than anything else.  He honestly could not believe what he was hearing but as Cheeks carried on, Kris could almost - if he tipped his perceptions at right angles - see how Cheeks had made it to that conclusion.  Even when they had taken jobs that required them to actually show up, none of DEx had used their main handles.  Even at the height of that first rush, no-one offline had ever been introduced to Kris as 'Hijack'.  DEx, to everyone who didn't know, were literally ghosts in the machine.

"The one thing that I can't figure out is if Silverfyre was fucking you before he lost his mind enough to volunteer for the job," Cheeks broke into Kris' delirious relief.

"Excuse me?"

"I _said_ that I can't tell if Silverfyre was fucking you before he took the job or if he just couldn't keep it in his pants," Cheeks tilted his head.  "Was that why they picked you?  I mean, you're kinda mousy but otherwise, yeah, you're exactly what he's looking for in a boy."

Kris counted to ten.  Then he counted to twenty.  By the time he'd counted to a hundred, the first murderous impulse had cooled to a clinical assessment of where he could hide the body.

"I never met Silverfyre before he drove into the Gauntlet to find me," Kris said honestly.  "We hooked up during the job but that was..."

"Due to his overwhelming sex appeal?"  Cheeks sniffed.  "Please, try that on someone dumb enough to believe you."

"I am not arguing about this with you," Kris warned.  "My relationship with Silverfyre is none of your business."

"Defensive much?"

"Voyeur much?"  Kris shot back and Cheeks sat back a little, blinked and started to laugh.

"Ooh, I _like_ you!  All quiet country mouse on the outside but one hundred percent pure bitch on the inside.  We are going to be awesome friends," Cheeks announced as he hooked his arm around Kris' neck.

"What?  No, no, we're not!" Kris objected.  Cheeks waved at him.

"Don't frown like that, sweetie. You'll wrinkle up like a little prune."  He tapped his finger against his lip.  "You know what we should do?"

"Go our own separate ways and never mention this again?"  Kris asked hopefully.

"Pfft, don't be so dull," Cheeks looked up as the automated voice crackled to life long enough to announce the next station.  "Come on, I'll buy you a drink."

"Fine," Kris sighed.  "One singular drink."

"You say that now," Cheeks grinned and grabbed his wrist.  "You are going to eat those words, just watch."

Kris was hauled off the train before he could argue.  Cheeks set off through the streets, towing Kris along behind him.  He kept talking the whole way there.  Kris didn't pay attention to a lot of what he was saying.  Parts of it were complaints about the make-up and fashion prices and again, Kris was sharply reminded of Adam.  How long had he and Cheeks been dating?  In Kris' admittedly limited experience, a relationship where both parties came out sounding so similar wasn't the fast affair Drey had tried to make it sound like. 

Thinking about it made his head hurt so it wasn't until Cheeks was marching up to the front door that Kris realized they were apparently going to _Idolize:NYC_ for that drink.  Harry was on the door and he beamed down at Kris then turned a more bland expression on Cheeks.

"Hey Jay."

"Hey Harry," Kris waved a hand at Cheeks.  "This is Cheeks.  He owes me a drink."

"Shoot 'im if he tries to get away without settling up, gotcha," Harry's smile showed off polished chrome teeth and Kris tugged Cheeks inside before he could open his mouth.  Harry was a nice guy.  In fact, Harry was an awesome guy, who just so happened to be able to bite through reinforced concrete.

"Seriously?!" Cheeks demanded as Kris pulled him deeper into the club.  "Who the fuck still has an Ironjaw?"

"Harry does and it's saved his ass a few times," Kris said as firmly as possible.  He was not getting into this with Cheeks ever but especially not here and now.  The last thing Kris needed right now was Firecracker bawling him out for letting his guest provoke Harry.  M’Alice was on duty behind the bar and two Cosmos were waiting on the bar by the time they worked their way through the early lunch-time crowd.

"Hey Jay," M’Alice leaned on the bar, turning an openly speculative expression on Cheeks.  "Who's your new boy-toy?"

"New pain in my ass, more like," Kris growled.  Cheeks preened and blew M’Alice a kiss.

"You ditched 'Fyre?" M’Alice nearly managed to say it with a straight face.  Kris glowered at her then turned to look Cheeks up and down with the most contemptuous expression he could manage.

"No, and even if I was stupid enough to ditch 'Fyre, he's _so_ not my type," Kris took a sip of his cocktail.  "Too ...tiny."

"Well, it's just as well," Cheeks said finally.  "I like a guy who can make me roll over and beg before breakfast."

His head to toe inspection of Kris was equally contemptuous.  Kris leaned his elbows on the bar and ignored him.  They bantered back and forth as M’Alice supplied them with cocktails and the lunch crowd started to thin out.  Cheeks was actually pretty smart and he delighted in provoking Kris into sarcasm.  Underneath the bitchy exterior, he actually seemed to be a nice guy.  Kris kinda liked him.

Cheeks must have been a kickass fixer because he kept asking questions and building inferences from Kris' answers.  Even after he'd spent five minutes talking about the difficulties of a relationship balanced between Adam's burgeoning music career and the insane hours that Firecracker seemed to need him to work, Kris wasn't sure how he did it. 

Of course, up to that point, Kris had never actually sat down and worked out how many hours he was spending behind the bar or crawling through the roof-space to check wiring.  Glitch had started picking up shifts to try and ease the load but Kris was still spending more time in _Idolize:NYC_ than he was anywhere else.  It was exhausting and Kris couldn't exactly complain to anyone else; Glitch was in the same boat, Adam was never there and Cale was dating Firecracker.  Even if Kris had more than a half-formed need to do more than mix drinks, he wouldn't ask Cale to put himself in the middle of the inevitable row.

"Oh, Jay, you're here," Firecracker came through the door behind the bar as if Kris' bitter thoughts had summoned her.  She was wearing a perfectly tailored suit and immaculate make-up.  "Saves me a call. Listen, there's a problem with Kickstand's surety that I have to deal with so I'm going to need you to pick up a shift tonight, okay?"

"Um, well," Kris stammered a little.  She had to be kidding!  "’Fyre said he was going to be back on time tonight so I'd really rather not-"

"Excuse the fuck out of you, sweetheart," Cheeks said over him.  "Some of us were having a conversation."

Firecracker didn't even look at Cheeks.  "That's great, Jay, glad you could help out."

"Actually, um, I said-" Kris started.

"Are you deaf or just that selfish?"  Cheeks demanded, leaning forward so Firecracker couldn't ignore him.

Firecracker looked him up and down and her lip curled into a sneer.  "This is business, as in none of yours, whoever you are."

"As the one who was talking to him first," Cheeks matched her sneer and raised an eyebrow.  "Yes, you barging in where you're not welcome to hijack the guy I'm talking to? Yeah, that would be my business."

Kris tried really, really hard not to flinch at the word 'hijack'.  The last thing he needed was Cheeks figuring _that_ secret out.

 "Uh, Cheeks, this is-" Kris tried to redirect the looming conversation.

 "I know who she is," Cheeks sniffed.  "She's a selfish cow."

"I'm his boss," Firecracker tilted her head, looking down her nose at him. "This is my club. Watch your step, Cheeks..." Firecracker trailed off and her eyes opened wide. "Cheeks? As in _Cheeks_ Cheeks?"

 "No, as in ass-cheeks.  Yes, I'm _Cheeks_ -Cheeks," Cheeks snorted, rolling his eyes.  "And you're 'Fyre's little princess brat."

 Oh god.  Kris scrambled to try and think of something he could say to shut Cheeks up before this could escalate.

 "Shift starts at seven, Jay," Firecracker turned back towards the door.

 "Wait, what?"  Kris objected.  "I just said I'm busy tonight."

 Cheeks sipped at his cocktail, gaze flicking from Kris, to Firecracker and his eyebrow went up.  Kris tried not to look at him.  It was bad enough being Firecracker's punch bag without having a highly sarcastic audience right there!

 "There's no one else, Jay," Firecracker frowned, swinging around to look disapprovingly back at him.  "You _have_ to do it.  I need to get this paperwork done.  This is important!"

 "But I've already worked every night this week!  You made me work Date Night!"  Kris protested.  He could already feel the headache starting to tighten across his temples.  He had a shopping list that Glitch was updating every few seconds that needed to be done, a whole security system to plan out and the chance to spend more than a few fuzzy minutes with Adam.

 Cheeks was staring at them, both eyebrows up almost to his hairline and Kris felt the dull heat of an angry blush spreading across his cheeks.  Firecracker couldn't have tried to treat him like an adult in the middle of the club?  Having Cheeks' incredulous stare boring into Kris' shoulder while Firecracker let out a put-on sigh was bad enough.

 "He wasn't going to get free anyway.  You were finished at 11," she planted one hand on her hip as she half-turned back to the door.  "’Fyre didn't get home until 10.30.  I just saved you a night of waiting alone on the couch.  I'll give you Saturday and Sunday off if you do this."

 "I already have Saturday and Sunday off -" Kris started angrily.

 "Ah, you haven't seen the new schedule.  Janice came down with the flu.  I had to rework it," Firecracker answered Kris first before swinging back to sneer at Cheeks.  "Are you always chronically unfashionable or can you just not afford this year’s fashions?"

 "So, I'm curious," Cheeks flashed sharp white teeth at Firecracker.  "Are you blowing the money on whores or drugs?"

 "Cute," Cheeks sneered right back.  "Seriously though, if you can't run a business, it might be time to call in an administrator."

 "What about Hex or Maladict?"  Kris wasn't ready to let his weekend off slide just yet, thank you.

"Hex can't get a babysitter. Maladict is having morning sickness again. I really need you to take this shift tonight. I have to get to City Hall and visit the bank before they close and-" Cheeks rapped sharply on the bar to interrupt and Firecracker spun around to glare at him. "I can run a business just fine."

"Sure.  That’s why you can’t organize your schedule any better than your wardrobe.  Those shoes, that dress, please," Cheeks' answer barely made it through the surge of outrage that made Kris' fists clench.

"But-!"

"You, hush," Cheeks flipped a dismissive hand at him, all his attention on Firecracker.  "You? Grow the fuck up!"

 "Get the hell out of my bar!"

"I just have one question - everyone who talks about ‘Fyre says he's head-over-heels for the kid," Cheeks twitched his chin at Kris.  "Do you really think he'll forgive you for breaking them up even if you do actually manage it?"

The chat window flashed in the corner of Kris' vision, bare text floating over the shadows in the corner of his eye.

`GLITCH(ROOT):  Hey, you okay? Heart Rate & BP just jumped.`

`HiJACK: Firecracker wants me to work tonight`

`GLITCH(ROOT): IS SHE FUCKING KIDDING?  Even you need to sleep sometime, dude`

`HiJACK: Working on it`

`GLITCH(ROOT): Let me know if you need an alibi`

He blinked away the chat as Firecracker snapped her fingers in front of his face.  "Seven, Jay. Don't be late."

Cheeks snorted and she glared at him, tossing her hair back over her shoulder as she turned and Kris' patience just _snapped_.

".....no," he said through his teeth.  "You know what? Fuck. This. Shit."

Firecracker swung around to stare at him, eyebrows up.  "What did you say?"

"I signed up to help you out part-time," Kris said very calmly.  "Just a couple of shifts a week, you said.  Over the last three weeks I've worked more than eighty hours a week-"

"If you don't want to help us out-" Firecracker started, somehow managing to look down her nose at him from the lofty height of her six inch heels.

"I never see ‘Fyre even when he is home.  I never even get the chance to call him," Kris carried on in the same flat tone.  "I had no problem helping you out but this?  This bullshit isn't helping you out.  This is letting you exploit me."

Cheeks clapped his hands, smiling gleefully, "Knew you had a backbone in there somewhere, baby."

"Exploit?  What the hell, Jay?  Do you even get how close Kickstand is to losing his shop?"  Firecracker faltered for a beat before squaring her shoulders and glaring at him.  "You know what?  That's fine.  Be fucking selfish! Do what you want!"

"This isn't about C-Kickstand!" Kris snapped. The frustration he'd spent weeks biting back was spiking into white-hot rage and suddenly he didn't care about Firecracker or her good opinion. M’Alice was beating a hasty retreat and the other staff were suddenly busy as far away as they could usefully get. "Do you even know how many times you pull me aside during a shift?"

"I-I don't keep track," Firecracker hesitated.

"Guess."

"I don't know," Firecracker blustered.  "How often do I need to?"

"That depends on your standards," Kris growled.  "Last shift, I fucked up two orders. Spite slipped up on four."  Kris tapped his fingers on the bar, not trusting himself to reach for the half-full cocktail glass.  "You pulled her aside once.  You pulled me aside _thirty-five times_."

"And?"  Firecracker hitched her shoulder dismissively.

"If I'm such a bad employee, why am I still here?"  Kris asked.  "Why am I still the one you order in to fill the gaps in the schedule?"

"What?  No one said you were a bad employee, but if you're not willing to help your best friend get his shop open..." she shrugged, spreading her hands in a helpless gesture.  Kris had to fight back the urge to strangle her.  That wasn't the fucking point!

Cheeks settled his chin on his hands and wiggled his fingers at Kris.  "Shush, shush, I want to watch her ride away on her high horse to fuck up her next relationship."

"You aren't helping," Kris growled.

"I'm not trying to," Cheeks shrugged cheerfully.  "You've been so _emphatic_ about how 'Fyre's really in love with you and you love him but you'll let her destroy whatever social life data runners manage rather than risk upsetting his poor ickle princess who's a grown ass woman.  It's like my own private train-wreck!"

"It's not like tha-" Even Kris didn't believe it and he couldn't think how to fake it.

"It is exactly like that," Cheeks scoffed.  "You can't even come in on your day off without her demanding you work more hours?  Sweetie, that's not a job.  That's a prison sentence."

"No one asked you for your two creds' worth!"  Firecracker snapped.

"Oh, I know," Cheeks beamed at her.  "But I'm such a charitable sort that I'm donating this nugget of wisdom free of charge."

"How kind of you!"

"Seriously though," Cheeks straightened up, propping an elbow on the bar.  "How many actual relationships have you let Silverfyre have in the last four years?"

"I don't think they make numbers that high," Firecracker shot back.

"No, no, honey," Cheeks said in the most patronizing tone imaginable.  "I said ‘ _relationships_ ' not one-night stands or casual fucks.  I’m thinking more like, oh, a boy that he went on dates with for more than a week?  Someone he didn't drop the second the sex bored him."

"He's had a couple-" Firecracker started.  Kris pinched the bridge of his nose.  Even he knew better than that.

"Bullshit," Cheeks said succinctly.

"Because you know better than I do?"

"'A couple'," Cheeks mimicked her in a high-pitched falsetto.  "Uh-huh.  You sounded really certain there.  I'm calling your bluff, sweetheart, I bet the last one you saw off was Zulu, yeah?"

"There was one or two since then," Firecracker tried but she wouldn't look at Kris as she said it.

"Uh-huh," Cheeks' tone conveyed infinite skepticism.  "The kind he was totally going to settle down with, yeah?"

Firecracker waved a hand in his face, pointedly turning her back to him.  Kris' headache was starting to pulse against the inside of his skull and he really, _really_ did not want to sit through a point-by-point dissection of Adam's love life.  He didn't believe Cheeks; Adam wasn't going to cheat on him, Kris was sure of that.  It didn't mean that Kris appreciated a constant reminder of how much Adam had lowered his standards by hooking up with him.

"Take my advice," Cheeks turned to him, the steel shell of the fixer settling around him for a second.  "Split the bank accounts, keep a bag packed and have someone other than the guy doing her-" he gestured contemptuously at Firecracker, "-that you can crash with.  'Fyre doesn't really 'get' fidelity and with little Miss Princess over here keeping you out of the picture, he's going to cheat on you any day now.  If he hasn't already."

"And if you keep hanging out with Little Miss Bitch, 'Fyre's going to have words for you," Firecracker broke in.  "You can't trust him, Jay.  He's just out for his own interests.  Just because you haven't figured them out yet, doesn't mean that he doesn't have any.  He's as slimy as they come."

Kris was starting to feel the guy in the middle of a game of Hot Potato being played with a frag grenade.  There was going to be an explosion and he was going to be stuck in the blast radius no matter what he did.

"'Words for you'?"  Cheeks' voice was shrill enough to make Kris wince.  "The fuck?  Is he your boyfriend or your dad?"

Kris twitched violently.  There was a mental image he'd never needed or wanted.  Firecracker's mouth twisted in disgust and she leaned over the bar to squeeze Kris' hand.

"Jay, seriously, you're a smart guy," she said seriously, like she hadn't spent the last three weeks treating him like a kid too stupid to be trusted with real scissors.  "Cut your losses with this guy.  Take tonight off and just relax."

"...I thought you just said that there was no way anyone else could cover tonight?"  Kris would have laughed if his head hadn't been a knot of pain and stress tension.  "And that you had to get the paperwork in before City Hall or the banks closed?"

"I'll work something out," Firecracker almost sounded sincere.  "Don't worry about it.  I'll cover it myself if I need to.  I'll manage, no problem."

"Can't afford the extra employees?"  Cheeks sniped.

Kris let his head thump down onto the bar and breathed in deeply.  Firecracker huffed but she'd clearly decided it wasn't worth the effort to respond.  Kris blew out the breath he'd been holding and sat up, pointing at Cheeks.

"You shut up about my relationship.  I'm not telling you again; it's none of your business.  You...."  He looked at Firecracker and shook his head.  "No, fuck it.  It's not worth the effort.  I'm just not in the mood to deal with either of you right now.  I'm going to go pick up the wiring for Dorsett Gibson so they can have their shiny new security system.  At least that way, _someone_ will be happy."

Kris snagged his still mostly full glass and drained it in one gulp.  "Fuck this whole day."

"Oooh, shopping!"  Cheeks sounded disconcertingly like Drey as he clapped his hands and hopped off his bar-stool.  He linked arms with Kris and ignored Kris' best attempt to shake him off.  Kris gave up.  Most mercs and most fixers hated shopping for hardware.  Hopefully it wouldn't take Cheeks too long to get bored.

"Seriously," Firecracker reached out like she was trying to pull him back behind the bar.  "Just... Just watch your back."

Kris stopped just long enough to look back over his shoulder at her.  "With him or with you?"

She didn't answer and Kris left _Idolize:NYC_ in a filthy mood.  He wanted badly to call Adam, just to complain and have Adam laugh and commiserate and tell him that really, it wasn't that bad.  Adam was in meetings and his phone wasn't even switched on.  The suite offered to tag it and notify him the second it was turned back on but Kris wasn't that pathetic.  He could deal with one bad day without needing to cry on his boyfriend's shoulder.  He could!

Cale rang him about an hour after he left _Idolize:NYC_ and Kris was just. Not. In. The. Mood.  He especially was not in the mood to listen to Cale make the apologies his girlfriend didn’t even realize she needed to be offering.  He switched his phone off; Glitch was still online in the chat and he'd run interference, no questions asked for a few hours.  Kris was going to do his shopping, get home and get this whole stinking day over with as fast as possible.

Shopping was a nightmare; some of the shops he usually bought his gear from were too close to the merc district and had closed for the day as the hunt for Fortress' enforcers threatened to spill into a riot.  As if that wasn't bad enough, Glitch apparently could not stop tinkering with his list and Kris had to traipse up and down the Silicon Quarter looking for wiring and circuit boards that fit his exacting standards. 

On top of all that, it took nearly the whole seven hours for Cheeks to get bored and wander off and he point-blank refused to leave without getting Kris' number and confirming it worked.

"Look," Cheeks said at last.  "You saved my ass, you're clever, cute and the most interesting person I've met since I came to this stupid rat-trap of a city.  I can't go back to San D for a while so I'm stuck here and I'd rather be able to just call you.  If you want me to, I can hunt you down through contacts but then you'll owe me a drink."

"If I give you my number, will you fuck off?"  Kris asked.

"If I have your number, I can just text you," Cheeks pointed out.  "And I won't be in any of your pokey little shops, asking you why you need 7/18ths of a centimeter of whatever the blue wire was."

"Fine!"

It was late when Kris got back.  Glitch's caffeine crash had knocked him out nearly two hours ago, leaving Kris to handle the rest of the list in peace.  He dropped the carry-box of parts on the coffee table, tucking the receipts for the wires and connectors that they'd need to pick up on their way into the Dome the next morning inside.

Kris looked around and saw some familiar guns in their rack beside the couch.  Adam was home!  Kris' headache relaxed immediately and he started to look around for his boy.  He wasn't in the living room or the kitchen or lying in wait in the bathroom.  Finally Kris pushed open the bedroom door and sighed.

The bedside lights were on, glowing with soft amber light.  Adam's armor lay in piles on the floor and Adam himself was sprawled across the bed in his boxers.  He was fast asleep, not even twitching when Kris closed the door behind himself and started picking up the discarded clothes.  Kris tossed the t-shirt into the hamper and folded everything else on the dresser before coming to stand over Adam.

It must have been a long day.  Adam's make-up was still mostly intact, except for a streak of clean skin along his left cheek and there was a dried out cotton ball in his right hand that smelled of make-up remover.  Kris combed his fingers through Adam's hair and felt the last lingering dampness.  He must already have rinsed out the product he used.

Adam hummed, nudging up against Kris' hand without any sign that he was waking up and Kris sighed again.  He loved this man so much that it hurt, a heavy punch of emotion right to the solar plexus.  Kris rubbed at his eyes.  He needed to get some sleep but first...

He picked through the tubs and bottles on Adam's dresser until he found the make-up remover and some clean cotton balls.  It took him a few minutes to get all the make-up off and he used up five cotton balls doing it.  Adam normally only used two.  Kris found his night cream, rubbing it in with his fingertips as Adam breathed in slow and even.

Getting Adam under the covers was hard work; he was a lot heavier than Kris, his extra cyber-ware adding enough weight that Kris' shoulder twinged and he was sweating by the time Adam was tucked safely under the covers.  Adam hadn't stirred and Kris checked the read-out on his own bio-monitor and the display on Adam's, just in case.  Both read clear, heart rate and all vital signs comfortably in the green zone.

Adam's iron levels were edging down towards amber at the rate of a milligram every three hours.  It could wait until morning.  Kris settled the quilt over him and made his way into the bathroom.  He fished out the bottle of high-yield iron supplements and left it on top of Adam's eye shadow where he couldn't miss them.  He stripped off his own clothes, shoving them all into the hamper.  He caught sight of a flash of bluish-purple as he turned back to the mirror over the sink and cursed softly.  His shoulder was bruised - probably from some fragment of the chair back in the _Spent Round_.  His nanosurgeons were already dealing with it but he'd be stiff in the morning.

Not the best thing to happen just before installing several miles of wire and cable.  Kris shook his head.  He’d worry about it tomorrow.  Right now, he was so tired that he could barely see straight.  It seemed to take forever to brush his teeth and wash his face.

The lights were dim by the time he made it back out.  Adam had rolled over, his arm draped across Kris' side of the bed and he was breathing nasally.  It wasn't exactly snoring but it was as close as Adam ever got.  He must be exhausted.  Kris leaned over to kiss his hair which was poking defiantly out from under the covers and squirmed his way in under the covers and Adam's arm. 

The bed was warm and Adam's arm settled around his waist, pulling him back against Adam's chest.  Adam's lips brushed the back of his neck and Kris shivered, feeling a spike of arousal even through the foggy weight of his exhaustion.  Adam snuffled against his hair and the lights went out, leaving Kris in the dark with Adam warm and solid behind him.

Kris wanted to savor it but his eyes were sliding inexorably closed and his breathing was slowing to match Adam's.  He fought it all the way but he was still asleep in minutes.


	6. Chapter 6

He stood, locked in the harsh glare of the spotlight.  Voices rose from the shadows, harsh critics tearing him to shreds as he tried to sing above their criticism.  He could feel their eyes on him, burning as they watched him stutter and fail.  He gripped the microphone tight, holding it as if it was his lifeline, but then it sparked and before he could stop himself, he dropped it to clatter on the stage, feedback shrieking through the amps.  Everything went quiet, scarily quiet and he could hear the condemnation:  He wasn’t good enough. 

He was off pitch. 

He was over reaching. 

He was nothing but a street merc, aiming at the stars but caught in the cracks of the kerbs. 

Who did he think he was? 

Didn’t he know that they had actual musicians to work with? 

Why was he wasting their time? 

Adam shook his head, trying to keep the words from reaching his ears but they wormed their way in and started to eat away at his already eroded confidence.  He could feel himself getting smaller, shrinking under the spotlight.  Steps sounded behind him, and then there were hands on him, holding him firm and he felt the warmth spread from his back all the way through him.  A familiar voice whispered in his ear, nonsensical things at first but then Adam started to hear the words, encouraging him, loving him and the spotlight started to fade.  Adam turned and found himself staring into brown eyes.  He smiled reached for Kris but the stage started to tremble beneath his feet.  Adam grabbed for Kris but his hands found nothing but air.  Kris was gone and around him, the walls were starting to fall.  Rubble clattered down and Adam brought his arms up to protect himself.  A creaking groan was followed by a rending tear and the brickwork came apart. 

Adam snapped straight up in the bed as the windows rattled and shook and threatened to shatter under the pressure.  Combat reflexes already on high alert, Adam dropped down to cover Kris, cradling him against the danger.  Kris tensed under him, grumbling in his ear, but not quite waking.  It took a second for to realize there were two helicopters hovering outside the window.  Zooming in, he tracked them as they brought guns to bear and opened fire.  They moved, circling each other as they fired wide, catching the neighboring buildings in the crossfire.  Bullets pinged harmlessly off the glass of their bedroom window and suddenly Adam was glad that he’d insisted that they opted for the double thickness.

The Fortress logo was bright on the side of one of the helicopters as it buzzed by the window before the helicopter twisted and climbed for the sky, the second helicopter following close on its tail rotor.  Adam listened to them go, tracking them until they were nothing but a memory made of bullet holes and spent ammo.  Adam shook his head, corporate battles weren’t supposed to edge out to this section of the city.  Something must have riled them up. 

He moved off Kris slowly, coming to rest beside him.  Kris blinked sleepily, eyes barely opening.  Adam kissed his cheek and hummed one of the songs that he’d been working on the day before.  He brushed a strand of hair from Kris’ forehead and smiled.  Kris mumbled something and snuggled in closer, his eyes falling shut again.  Kris fell asleep again, his lips slightly parted and a whisper of a snore escaping with every breath.  Adam missed this, just being here with Kris curled into his side. 

For the last few weeks, their schedules had been so far out of synch that it seemed that one of them was leaving every time the other was getting home.  Late meetings at Gunfire for Adam, early shifts at _Idolize:NYC_ for Kris, early meetings at the production studio for Adam, late shifts for Kris, recording studio sessions, data running…  It was like the world was conspiring to keep them apart. Just being here at the same time was a luxury and one that Adam didn’t want to waste.  He checked his schedule and smiled as he saw the cancellation notices all over his planner.  Obviously, the execs were still feeling a little wary after the events of the previous day.  A day in bed sounded pretty damned good, and as far as Adam knew, Kris didn’t have a shift scheduled that evening.  Perfect!

Nature called however and Adam reluctantly rose and made his way to the bathroom.  He checked his levels as he listened to the splash of water against water.  Yesterday’s exertion had dropped his chemical levels dramatically.  His iron levels in particular were edging towards red.  Adam looked around and saw the tablets out on his side on the bathroom countertop, sitting on top of his favorite eye shadow.  Kris had obviously checked last night and left them there so that he wouldn’t miss them. 

Iron taken, Adam wandered towards the kitchen to grab some orange juice and maybe a muffin if there were any left from yesterday’s batch.  Iron tablets on an empty stomach were a bad idea, especially since Adam definitely planned on a workout later.  He let the door snick closed behind him, wincing against the quiet click that sounded so loud against the silence of the apartment.

He was just congratulating himself on keeping the noise down when he heard a crash-bang-wallop of metal on metal from the kitchen.  He rounded the corner and saw Glitch running laps of the table, trying frantically to steady what looked like a metric ton of components.  Adam caught a circuit board as it slid clear and pushed back the tide of wires and chips. 

Glitch sighed in relief, and waved good morning with a finger, which seemed to be the only part of his hand he had free.

“You know, yesterday, I had a kitchen table. Today I've got a heap of components,” Adam shrugged and fielded another circuit board, “You shouldn't have!”

Glitch grinned and managed to steady the pile, “Holy shit, the Imaginary Man! You exist!”

Glitch’s comments struck a little too close to home. 

Adam tried to brush it off as a joke, “Contrary to recent evidence, yeah, I do. My schedule's been a little manic.”

That was an understatement.  Nothing in life came easy but he worried that a career in music would put a strain on their relationship.

“A little manic still leaves room for a weekend and a social life.”  Glitch cast an eye over Adam, and Adam looked down, suddenly worried that he’d forgotten his boxers but, thankfully, he was covered, “I take it you aren't heading out for an early meeting?”

“Nope,” Adam shook his head, “Today's been cancelled apparently, every meeting barring one quick phone meeting later today.”

Glitch’s other eyebrow rose, “Who'd you have to blow up to score that?”

“No one,” Adam shrugged and grabbed himself a glass of protein enriched OJ from the fridge.  “The execs are running scared. There was a small incident at the compound yesterday and they're still skittish.”

“A small incident usually means dead people,” Glitch tapped his PADD.  “Lemme just update your itinerary.”

Adam frowned, “My itinerary? So far it's looking like drink this,” he raised the glass, “go back to bed and snuggle. Then if we get tired of snuggling, maybe move to the couch, watch a movie and make up for missing date night.”

“...ah,” Glitch put down the PADD and tapped at the screen, “Might be a slight problem with that.”

“He's got plans, doesn't he?  He's not scheduled in _Idolize:NYC_ , so...”  He Adam sighed and looked down at the components, “You've got a job.”

All plans of a sleepy, sexy morning faded and died as a wire snaked off the table and took an LED display with it.  Adam barely caught it before it hit the floor.  If Kris had plans, then Kris had plans.  Maybe they could do something later instead?

“...yeah,” Glitch nodded, “and about _Idolize:NYC_ \- I think he might have quit, but we did tell Mount Merc that we'd put in his security system today.”

Adam pulled out a chair and sat down, “He might have quit? Wait – Mount Merc? Tall, blond, with a hell of an attitude?”

“That's the guy,” Glitch nodded, “J called him Gee; other half to the guy with the motor mouth who was your ex fuck buddy? And Jay said a few things yesterday while he was shopping that made me think he might finally have snapped at Firecracker.”  Glitch shrugged, “'Bout time, really.”

Adam frowned.  Kris hadn’t said anything about Allison or _Idolize:NYC_ but then, he hadn’t really talked to Kris in weeks.  He’d obviously missed something, some signs, something because the way that Glitch was talking, so matter-of-factly, this was something that had obviously been building up for a while.  Adam ran a hand through his hair and sighed.  He didn’t want to get the details from Glitch which meant he’d have to find the time to talk to Kris about it.  He didn’t really want to get caught between Allison and Kris but he’d step in if he had to.  They were both important to him.

“I'll ask him about it later, smooth things out if he wants me to, butt out if he doesn't,” Adam couldn’t do more than that.  Pushing Kris when he didn’t want to talk about something just ended up with subject changes or Kris remembering something that he needed to do, somewhere else, far away. 

“J didn't wanna talk to me about it but you're you, so...” Glitch shrugged.

“If he talks to me, he talks to me. If not, then I won't push him.” Adam could hear shuffling from the bedroom and then footsteps, and curses as Kris found his boots with his foot.  He changed the subject quickly, flicking a less than subtle glance at the opening bedroom door, “Gee and Drey? You're doing a security system install for Gee? Is he paying?”

“Eighty seven thousand plus materials. Not like we need the money,” Glitch answered, nodding that he got Adam’s message.

Kris wobbled his way towards the kitchen to the coffee machine and stared at it for a second.  Adam smiled and stood to grab Kris’ cup – which was bigger than Adam’s - and filled it with coffee for him.  Kris took it without comment, his eyes not looking beyond the dark depths of the coffee in the cup.

“87K? That's a nice chunk of change,” Adam smiled, watching Kris take his first sip of coffee of the day.

Glitch nodded and moved over to Kris, “Apparently Mt. Merc has gold in his foothills.”  Glitch moved Kris slightly, turning his back so that it was directly under the light and poked a fading bruise.  Kris swatted irritably at him and Glitch backed off, looking up at Adam, “Should be fairly straightforward.”

He’d lost Adam the second Adam had seen that bruise.  Adam took a second to check over the rest of Kris looking for more bruises, more injuries.  He couldn’t see any other injuries, but that didn’t really mean anything.  Nano-healers would already have repaired anything less serious. How bad had the bruise been before they’d started breaking it down?  Had Allison done this? If she had, then Adam was going straight down there and pinning her to a wall, little sister or not.  Whatever shit was between Allison and Kris, it ended today.  One way or another.  He took a breath and forced himself to calm down.  There was no way that Allison could have done this.  Was there?  There was no point in getting riled up without reason.  He’d just ask Kris before jumping to conclusions, and then when Kris told him, Adam was going to kill the person responsible slowly and painfully.

“That’s a hell of a bruise on your back,” Adam tried to keep his voice level, “What happened?”

Kris, his coffee cup cradled in his hands, leaned into Adam and murmured, “Hgmfmmmmmcoffeee.”  It took a second for his brain to filter through the haze of caffination before he finally answered the question, “Chair shot. Missed me by a mile.” 

Adam’s eyebrows rose sharply and so did his voice, “Chair shot? What the hell, Jay? What were you doing that someone threw a chair at you?”

“Making sure job got done.”

Adam didn’t know what was worse; that someone threw a chair at Kris or that he answered so matter-of-factly that he obviously thought that it wasn’t a big deal.

“He was on point,” Glitch added helpfully.

Adam turned his glare on Glitch and the runner flinched back.

“What job?” Adam asked, his voice dropping low.

Kris snapped his fingers at the vidscreen in the corner which flickered to life and tuned itself to the local news station. Adam read the ticker tape as it scrolled along the bottom of the screen: "FORTRESS 'UNAUTHORIZED' CONTRACTOR DATABASE LEAKED. CYBER TERROR GROUP DEx CLAIMS RESPONSIBILITY."

Glitch pointed towards it, “That job.”

Adam felt Kris’ nod against his chest and curled his arms tighter around him, reading the ticker tape as it repeated.  There were more than three hundred mercs had been killed or left for dead.  One clip which seemed to be showing on repeat featured a team of mercs being thrown from the penthouses of one of the big corporation buildings.  There were more missing, presumed on the run, and Adam wondered how many anonymous donations would make it to the organ harvesters and body banks.  That explained the dogfight outside the window this morning. Corp war was very real and Adam worried that this might just push them over the edge. 

Kris’ voice broke through his thoughts and fears, “They were hunting some guys from San D. We ...discouraged them.”

Adam played with the short hairs on the back of Kris’ neck, “You guys okay? Well, apart from the bruise that ate Jay's shoulder? Coasts clear, tracks covered?”

The question was enough to crack through Kris’ caffeine haze and he turned to look up at Adam, eyebrow arched.

“Hell yeah,” Glitch crowed.  He looked from Adam to Kris and shook his head, smiling, “Aaaand on that note. I should totally get to work sorting out the deliveries for the job.  And I'll tell the mountain we're starting an hour late?”

Kris nodded, his voice still raspy from sleep, “Make it two.”

Adam frowned.  Was Kris more injured than he was saying?  Adam’s eyes ran over Kris again, trying to see if there was something that he’d missed.  He got his answer in the form Kris turning and wrapping his free arm around Adam and nuzzling closer, big brown eyes blinking up at him innocently. 

Oh!

Adam smiled, as he teased, “You've got plans, babe?”

Kris answered with a slow suggestive smile, practically batting his eyes at Adam.  Adam loved when Kris took charge, demanding what he wanted and taking it.  No one else would believe that Kris was quite the bossy guy when it came to sex, but Adam didn’t care.  He bent down and kissed Kris, tasting coffee and Kris and loving it.

Adam heard Glitch pile things into boxes, sweeping them off the table as quickly as he could, “Okay! Not a problem! Leaving now!”

Adam didn’t look away from Kris, “Bye Glitch.”

The front door slammed shut and Kris finished his coffee, setting the cup down on the counter.  He licked his lips and Adam could feel himself start to harden as he watched the slow trail of Kris’ tongue across his lips. 

He looked up at Adam and smiled, one corner of his mouth quirking up, “Mmmmorning.”

“Morning, babe,” Adam’s voice was low as he pulled Kris tight against him.  It felt so good.  “God, I missed this.  And you.”

“Missed you too,” Kris rose to his tip-toes and kissed Adam, his tongue flicking out over Adam’s lips.

Adam groaned and he could feel Kris, solid and warm even through his sleep pants. It had been too long and Adam needed Kris. He was tempted to just lift Kris up onto the counter and take him there, but Kris had other ideas. His hand found Adam’s and pulled Adam back to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them as they went.

\--

Adam watched Kris as he hopped around the room, one sock on, the other hanging by a toe. Glitch had called two minutes ago wondering if Kris was on his way yet.  Kris had all but jumped from the bed and started grabbing for his clothes.  Adam grabbed yesterday’s underpants from Kris’ hand and replaced them with clean, fresh briefs from the drawer.  He plucked the wrinkled t-shirt from the floor before Kris could reach for it and tossed it in the laundry basket.  He pulled a fresh shirt from Kris’ drawer and smiled when he saw it was one of his old band t-shirts from San D.  It appealed to his possessive streak so he handed it over to Kris, who pulled it on without even looking at it. 

Adam grabbed clothes for himself and shrugged on the jacket that he’d been wearing yesterday.  The entire area where he’d been shot was stiff and unyielding; downright uncomfortable in comparison to the otherwise soft and supple material.  He’d have to get Drey to look at it later if Drey had time.  For now, though, the most important thing was to get Kris over to Dorsett Gibson before Gee killed Glitch.

The ride over was easy enough, mid morning traffic was nothing to Adam and he dodged easily between the slow moving cars, Kris behind him and holding on tight.  Adam loved the feeling of Kris behind him, pressed close.  He’d really miss it if Kris got a bike of his own.  Kickstand was working on something for Kris but with all the legal hassle he’d had recently, he hadn’t been able to do more than fill in forms and go to appeal panels.  Allison was helping out so Adam had confidence that they’d get everything worked out.

Adam pulled into the alleyway behind the new shop and kicked down the bike stand.  Kris wiggled off easily and Adam let Kris run on ahead while he secured the bike and locked the helmets away.  Black shields slotted down over the wheels and locked into place. 

It was pure chaos in the boutique’s backroom.  Everywhere he looked, there were bolts of fabric covered with wires and leads bound together in bundles.  Adam could spot a pair of legs hanging out of the ceiling and recognized Glitch’s boots. 

“Yo, pass me up the cabling?” Glitch called out.

Adam was the only one about, so he climbed up on the precariously stacked bolts of fabric and picked up the cable bundle.  The bottom bolt started to slip and Adam had to find his balance again, cables gripped tightly in one hand and the other held out for balance.

“Yo!  I’m up here in the damned ceiling, can someone please get off their ass and hand me the damned cabling!” Glitch called out again.

“Gimme a second,” Adam snapped, “These things aren’t exactly stable, you know.”

Glitch’s head poked out through a gap in the ceiling tiles, “’Fyre, finally.  Wait, you did bring J with you, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Adam glared at Glitch, and handed the cables up to him, “Not sure where he is though.  He disappeared while I was locking my bike.”

“Awesome,” Glitch grinned, “In that case, I almost forgive you for making him late!”

Adam rolled his eyes and let himself drop down to the floor, wincing as his knees twinged at the impact.  Three months since he’d started turning off his combat ‘ware, and he still wasn’t used to it.  With everything he’d run back on the streets, he wouldn’t have even felt that. 

He found Gee manhandling some of the furniture into place on the shop floor.  Adam grabbed the other end of the heavy metal counter and Gee grunted what Adam though might have been a ‘thank you’, but equally could have been ‘I had it’.  Adam could see Kris’ feet sticking out from behind a couch and as soon as the counter was in place, he went over to investigate. 

“Glitch, can you…” Kris called out.

A faint shout came from the back room, “Gimme a second.  Gotta work the power hook up first and she’s being a bitch.”

“’k,” Kris groped blindly for something on the ground.

He ducked his head out after a couple more seconds of groping and looked surprised to see Adam looking down at him, a smile on his face.

"Um, could you pass me the 5/16ths spanner?" Kris asked distractedly.  Adam reached for the closest spanner but Kris corrected him before he could hand it over, "No, that one."

Adam picked up the right spanner and handed it over.  Honestly, Adam could work his way through how to break a security system without setting off the alarms, but installing one from scratch was beyond him.  He had no problem helping Kris out, so he dumped his armored coat on a couch and hunkered down beside Kris and handed him whatever he needed.

Kris wasn’t that talkative while he was working, and Adam was okay with that.  It gave him time to go over some information that he needed to review.  He had a call with Case to decide finalize who he wanted for his backing band.  He’d made a short list but he needed more information. 

Handing Kris a wire stripper, Adam called up his phone menu and composed a text message to be sent to Hijack’s Little Helpers: _NEED RESEARCH ON THE FOLLOWING INDIVIDUALS: THOMAS JOSEPH RATLIFF; MONTE PITTMAN; LONGINEU PARSONS; LISA HARRINTON. INFORMATION REQUIRED: CONFLICTING CONTRACTS; CORPORATIONS SIGNED TO; FACTS FROM THEIR CVS THAT ARE INCORRECT; OUTSTANDING STREET CONTRACTS; CRIMINAL RECORDS; RELEVANT INFORMATION THAT HAS BEEN OMITTED FROM COMPANY RECORDS._

Not even a second later, Adam got a reply: _QUANTIFY 'RELEVANT INFORMATION' QUERY?_

Adam thought about that for a second.  What information did he really need?  He had a lot on file but that was sanitized, both by the people he was considering and by Gunfire.  He needed to know, primarily, if they posed a risk, if they’d left anything major off their records. 

Adam sent the Helpers a simple answer:  _ANYTHING THAT MAY BE CLASSIFIED AS A THREAT._

They were smart, smarter than Adam maybe, and had been flagging threats for Kris for years.  If there was anything in the profiles that was a lie, the Helpers would uncover it.  Adam was sure of that.

 _COMPILING_ , was the answer that was sent back and Adam sat back to wait.

He didn’t have long to wait before the information started scrolling across his optical display.  They hadn’t bothered sending it though his phone this time, but rather just uploaded it straight into his display.  Sometimes, Hijack’s Little Helpers scared him a little, but he trusted Kris and they were an extension of Kris.

 

> **Subject** : LISA HARRINTON:  
>  **AKA** Liz Harrinton, Lisa Herring, Lisa Harrion, _Lisa_
> 
> **Age** : 30  
>  **Born** : LA Metroplex  
>  **Known Gang Affiliations** : Sisters of the Groove (lapsed)
> 
> **Skills** : Keyboard playing, small arms, martial training in a judo variant focusing on utilizing kicks and high heels  
>  **Qualifications** : BA in Classical Studies. Diploma in Music Composition.
> 
> **Significant Others** : Eight (8): Daisy Julia Harrinton (mother, retired gangland business owner): Diane Jessica Harrinton (elder sister, executive assistant at Gunfire Records): Mark Anthony Harrinton (younger brother, free-lance sound technician):  Jeffrey Thomas Harrinton (father (terminal)): Eleanor Castille (Potential romantic partner and housemate): Marcus Trenton (Junior Executive: Gunfire Records), Mrs Abigail Benson (landlady & Proprietor [Drown Ur Sorrows]): Mr Allen Bruce (Musical instructor, ret.). Additional acquaintances are logged in file V-81c-aa
> 
> **Additional Information** : Subject is in a casual but long term relationship, is rated highly by peers in terms of musical skill and teamwork.  Subject dislikes recreational drug use.  Subject has served three (3) months on a charge of drug possession that were not declared during interviews.  In addition, subject's role in PussyKat's Purr was as a stage performer, not a musician.  Subject has an old ankle injury that could potentially be corrected by surgery currently outside her financial capability.

 

Adam paused on the gang affiliations.  Belonging to a gang was just a fact of life; everyone growing up outside the corp zones of the city had some gang affiliations.  If you lived in their turf, they owned you.  Adam had heard of Sisters of the Groove.  They were a harmless suburban gang who  preferred outreach programs and afterschool activities, usually focused on music, instead of tagging every flat surface. 

With her connections, Adam had no doubt that she’d been put forward by them, but she’d owned the stage when she’d played for him and done some interesting riffs on both his songs and older classics, remixing on the fly when he’d challenged her.  She definitely the one he wanted on keyboards.

He flicked his eye over the arrow at the bottom of his vision to bring up the next report.

 

> Compiling...
> 
> **Subject** **AKA** : Louis Parsons, Long-dew, Vicar, _L.P._
> 
> **Age** : 30  
>  **Born** :  NYC Suburban Dome  
>  **Known Gang Affiliations** : No active or past memberships; Subject acted as a fixer in the Greater LA sprawl but severed all prior connections following the death of his younger sister in the Gauntlet four years ago.  (See appended data-file HR771-g)
> 
> **Skills** : Negotiation, appraisal, drumming and firearms expertise (handguns)  
>  **Qualifications** : High School Graduate, Qualified by the Los Angeles School of Music to teach violin.
> 
> **Significant Others** : Four (4) Amanda Irving Hays (long-term partner), Gregory 'G-Bomb' Vitalis (former business partner, co-owner 'Vicarage' Lounge, East Side), Amelia Parsons (mother), Tarragon 'T-Payne' Parsons (brother) :  Additional acquaintances are logged in file V-81c-bc
> 
> **Additional Information** :  Subject has filed a fictitious record of employment prior to approach by Gunfire Records.  Gunfire Records is not currently aware of this.  Subject's prior identity has been erased and there is a less than 0.00001% probability that any interested individuals will connect subject with subject's prior identity.
> 
> In addition, subject was known to the established gangs in the Gauntlet, no active interactions with the Zombies logged during the previous five (5) years.  Probability that subject will fail to identify Primary User from that time is 87.36%.
> 
> Subject's prior history has been erased. There are no outstanding vendettas, obligations or feuds between subject and any of the gangland residents with whom the subject interacted.  Subject's new identity is robust and will pass unnoticed through all projected scenarios centered around prospective role.

 

Adam was nervous about this guy.  There was a link back to LA and San D and to the Gauntlet in particular.  87% chance that he wouldn’t, meant that there was a 13% chance that he would recognize Juniper.  Could Adam take that chance?  He hadn’t heard anyone better on drums but with Crusader sniffing around and trying to find out everything he could about Juniper, it was a heavy risk to take.  Adam would need to think about this one carefully.  He’d almost lost Kris once and he wasn’t going to lose him again.

He clicked over to the next record, still considering whether to ask Case for more drummer auditions or not.

Kris moved to the other side of the security arch and Adam followed, picking up all the tools and carrying them over, along with the pile of wires and components that Kris had been picking from, and settled in again to look at the next record.

 

> Compiling...
> 
> **Subject** : MONTE PITTMAN;  
>  **AKA** :  PittBoss, _Monte_
> 
> **Age** : 35  
>  **Born** :  Seattle Badlands (Incizor turf)  
>  **Known Gang Affiliations** : Incizors (retired/defunct), Melody Transits (defunct)
> 
> **Skills** : Guitar playing, design and manufacture of guitars and relevant cyber-ware, full working knowledge of recording software/firmware/hardware.  Green belt in West Coast variant Jiu Jitsu.  
>  **Qualifications** : BA in Music Theory & Composition, MA in Guitar Composition.
> 
> **Significant Others** : Lisa 'Lyon' Pittman (current legal spouse), children (two, 2) Additional acquaintances are logged in file V-81c-de
> 
> **Additional Information** : Subject is considered to be the most talented guitar player/composer currently working on the East Coast but Gunfire Records scouts do not believe he has sufficient stage presence to front-line (See appended file 'GRAAS-f3.dlc').  Subject's investment is in the music, not the performance.  Subject is paternal parent of twin children.

 

This guy had gone on and on about his children and how they were already interested in music despite being only a few months old.  Married and a dad were hardly the image that Adam wanted associated with him, and he could see where Gunfire were coming from, but the man knew music and Adam wanted that.  Monte had fixed a feedback error, that had not only been driving Adam nuts for weeks but defied every effort Adam had made to fix it, with a small piece of wire and a screwdriver.  He knew sound boards, he knew levels and he knew his way around a guitar like he had been born with one in his hand.  Adam could work on his stage presence but he wanted Monte on his side.

There was one record left and Adam flicked over to it, actually looking forward to finding out what the Helpers had turned up on the guy.

 

> Compiling.....
> 
> **Subject** : THOMAS JOSEPH MRIDULA RATLIFF;  
>  **AKA** : Thomas Joseph Ratliff, Tommy-Joe, TJ-RATT, _Tommy_
> 
> **Age** : 29  
>  **Born** :  Alabama Agricultural Collective #32  
>  **Known Gang Affiliations** : Razorbacks MC (defunct), the Eazi Boyz (no longer active) and The Ardent Collective (defunct)
> 
> **Skills** : Bass-guitar playing, extensive knowledge on fashion aesthetics and visual presentation  
>  **Qualifications** : GED, BA (pass) in Economic Theory (Creative Industry)
> 
> **Significant Others** : Three (3), Hannah Marie Ratliff (mother, small business owner),  Bryan Shawn Ratliff (father, small business manager), Haley Jacinta 'Jay-ha' Bridewell (best friend, former romantic partner).
> 
> **Additional Information** : Subject is considered the most desirable addition to project by Gunfire Records executives.  Subject is projected as performing additional stage support (See appended file 'Call-log-conference.mgp')  Subject claims heterosexuality; signs suggest latent bisexuality and caution is advised during any behaviour which might challenge this presumption.

 

Adam tapped a pair of pliers against his chin as he read the last file.  So, Tommy was a farmboy.  Agricultural and bio-crop corporations owned most of the middle states these days.  They tended to keep them fairly conservative and religious, and Adam just couldn’t see Tommy as a hayseed.  Of course, he couldn’t put him together with an economics degree either but there it was right there in green text in front of his eyes.  Tattooed, bleached and made up, Tommy was a natural fit for Adam’s backing band. 

L.P. was still a question but Adam decided to go for it.  No point in losing a good drummer on something that might not be an issue.

Putting together his list, Adam sent it off to Case for approval, and settled back to watch Kris work.  He got a call back a few minutes later and tapped Kris on the shoulder to let him know that he was going to step away for a moment.

“Hey Case,” Adam answered, “You got my email?”

“Yeah,” Case answered, “Not sure on one of your choices though.  You sure you want to go with Monte?”

Adam laughed, “Yeah, Case, I’m sure.  We got a couple of weeks before we need to start doing the live shows.  I’m sure that I can get him looking like a rock star by then.”

“Okay,” Case sounded dubious, “Oh, got the all clear on the names you sent over to me.  You know, for security?  Took longer than I’d hoped with everyone off scared.”

“I figured that might be the reason that all my meetings cancelled today,” Adam shook his head, “Not that I’m not grateful for the day off.  I was running on empty, Case.  I don’t know how you suits do it every day.”

“Coffee,” Case answered, “Lots of coffee.”

Adam sighed, “Think they’ll be back in tomorrow?”

“Some of them,” Case said honestly, “but it’ll probably be light until the weekend.  Take advantage of it while you got it, ‘Fyre, weeks like this don’t happen very often.”

“I’m starting to figure that out,” Adam admitted, “So who have you assigned to be my security?”

“Two of them passed screening; Amazon and Jinx.  I know you’re going to want to meet them in person before they get assigned to you so I’ll send them out later today and they can rendez-vous with you somewhere.  Is that okay?”

Adam shrugged, “Yeah, sounds good.  I’m gonna be down at the Dorsett Gibson NYC store for most of today, I think.  I’m going to go over a couple of costume designs with their lead designer, see if I can get him to do some mockups and talk to him about outfitting the band and my security.  That okay?”

“Keeps a headache off my desk,” Case answered.

“Alright then, call you later when I’ve got something.”

“Later, dude,” Case signed off and Adam clicked off the phone call.

He turned and started to head back to Kris when Drey came out of the back room, phone to his ear and lengths of fabric over his shoulder.  He didn’t look happy with whoever was on the other end of the line.  There was an honest to God pout on his face and he looked a little manic under that.  Adam stepped out of his way as he started to pace.

“You can’t do that.  We had a contract,” Drey pinched the bridge of his nose as his hair flashed from blue to orange to red.

Trust Drey to have a mood-shift color slide coded into his grooming nanites.  If the color was anything to go by, Drey was getting angrier and angrier.  Adam was tempted to take the phone and try to sort it out but Gee would probably shoot him for it.

“Fine!  But if you think that we’re going to use your agency again, think again.  I’m going to have Gee sue your asses for breach of contract,” Drey snapped the phone shut and cut loose with a string of street-slang.

Adam’s eyebrows rose.  Those weren’t Drey words.  Those were Gee words.  Those were Gee-under-fire words.

“Damn.  Damn.  Damn.  Damn.  _Damn_!”  Drey kicked at a bunch of cables.

Kris rolled out from under the cascade of wires to look over at where Drey was still kicking everything close enough to kick, “Dude, easy on the merchandise. Kick that wire again and it's going to fry your nanoware.”

A ceiling tile moved and Glitch’s head poked down as he looked around to see what the commotion was.

Drey looked over to Kris, a frown on his face, “What? Oh! Sorry.” 

He didn’t stop pacing though.

Kris slid back from where he was and stood up, stretching out his muscles, “What's up?”

Adam was curious too, but he was more concerned with how Glitch was hanging out of the ceiling.  That _really_ didn’t look safe.  Adam edged a little closer, watching the tiles starting to bend and tiny cracks were spreading out.

Drey threw himself down onto the couch and onto Adam’s armored jacket, which he pulled out and tisked over after he felt the solid panels, “My models cancelled and now they want to send me _models_!”

Kris looked blank, “Okay....isn't that good?”

“No! No, that isn't good,” Drey was a fraction from shrieking, and Kris took a step back, “That isn't good at all. I design clothes for people not for models.”

Kris looked at Adam, “Aren't models people? There's that whole anti-CG legislation and stuff.”

Adam sighed.  Of course Kris didn’t understand.  Adam hadn’t either until he’d started hanging around with Drey and learning more about fashion.  Models were…  almost a different species these days.

Adam tried to explain, “I think what Drey means is that standard industry models have significantly different dimensions to regular people. You know the models you see in _Vogue_ or _GQ_? All angles and... Well not much else.”

“ _Vogue_? _GQ_?” Kris asked, looking from Drey to Adam and back again.

Drey glared and Adam shrugged.  It wasn’t his fault that Kris had never picked up a fashion magazine.  He usually read them here, in the back room of Drey’s workshop over a cup of coffee, but now Drey was looking at him as if he’d neglected Kris’ entire education and that this was a mortal crime. 

Drey ducked into the back and grabbed a couple of magazines and then handed them over to Kris, “There? See? I can't have them wearing my clothes. I mean... It would take me hours just to take them in.”

“...those are people?” Kris’ eyes were as wide as the barrel of a .75 cal minigun.

“Marginally,” Drey shrugged.

Glitch ducked down a little further, and looked over Kris’ shoulder, “Wow.”

Adam moved so that he was under Glitch.  He really didn’t trust the ceiling tiles, “Yeah, but they've changed their looks extensively.  Cosmetic surgery, implants, cyberware, genital reassignment or removal in some cases, drug regimes, hormone treatments. You wouldn't believe what they do to themselves just to get their pictures taken.”

There was a horrid creak and Glitch came crashing through the open hole in the ceiling.  Adam caught him easily.  Adam really didn’t need moments like these in his day.  Glitch didn’t even blink.

“Told you that contractor was a cowboy.  You know, it’s a pity you can't stand in for them,” he said to Adam, “but your label would freak.”

Adam sighed, “Yeah, they would.”

“It would only be test shots...,” Drey started but Adam put up a hand to stop Drey before he could go any further.

Much as he would like to help Dorsett Gibson out, Adam couldn’t risk it without his label’s approval and that meant meetings and meetings and lawyers and agreements and then more meetings just because they could. 

Kris was still looking at the pictures in GQ and started to look a little green, “Wow, okay, I'm totally on your side here.”

Drey looked at him and tapped his chin thoughtfully, “... Jay?” Drey drew out his name and Kris looked up.

“Yeeeess?”

“I don't suppose that you've got a few minutes? They're just test shots,” Drey wheedled, “Glitch too?  Maybe?”

“You're kidding!” Kris and Glitch said in unison.

Adam looked at Drey.  He wasn’t joking. 

“Totally not!” 

“I'm not really...” Kris shook his head, “I mean, wouldn't it be better to use Gee? I don't look like a merc.”

Kris had a point.  Adam knew that he could handle himself and that, hiding under the baggy combats and hoodies, Kris had a hell of a body, but he didn’t look like the typical merc look.  Sure, Drey designed for mercs of all sizes.  Hell, Kris had a full set of armor personally tailored by Drey but Adam could see Kris’ point.

Drey, however, was shaking his head, “I don't want a merc. I mean, if it was armor, I'd totally want a merc but for the new line, a merc really wouldn't work. It's kinda clubbing and casual clothes and we're doing a general market thing and we need to work to get away from our old clientele, hence why we're doing this from NYC. Please, please, please?”

Kris bit his lip, “I don't think I'm really the sort of guy you want.”

Adam could see the doubt in Kris’ face.  He was wavering.  He liked Drey and he hated to say no to a friend.  Adam watched Kris, ready to step in and derail Drey if he needed to.

“You're exactly what I need,” Drey sidled up to Kris, linking arms with him, “You're small, you're cute, you've got a killer ass.”  Drey looked at Glitch and shrugged, “Yours isn't bad but his is better, but if you’ll both just say yes, I'd be forever in your debt. You'll get to keep the clothes. I'll tailor them for you and everything but _please_?”

Kris looked at Adam, chewing on his lip, “You're going to laugh at me.”

Adam shook his head, reaching out to take Kris’ hand, “I'm not.” 

Despite Adam’s best efforts, Kris still had a bucket-load of insecurities.  Being forgettable had kept him alive while he’d lived in the Gauntlet, and that was a hard mindset to break.  Adam understood Kris’ reluctance but Kris looked fucking hot when he let Drey handle his wardrobe.  Honestly, Drey wasn’t going to do any better even when he did get a professional model.

 “It’ll be a professional photographer?  A full set?”

“Yes, of course!” Drey looked at Adam as if he was insane.

Adam pulled Kris close, moving away from Drey and from Glitch and dropping his voice so that only Kris could hear him, “I won't laugh at you and I think you'd look awesome.  We'd get to keep some really nice pictures. Finally, I can have one for my wallet!” 

Kris didn’t look entirely convinced, but he sighed, “...fine but I don't know anything about modeling.”

“That's what a photographer is for!” Drey piped up from behind them.

Adam glared over Kris’ shoulder at his friend.  Trust Drey not to take a hint.  That boy couldn’t keep his nose out of anything.

Adam ignored Drey, kissing Kris again, “I'll be there too. If you'd like, that is?”

“Damn right you are.”

Adam smiled, “The photographer will guide you through what Drey needs for a good picture. He's got the experience.  He'll tell you what you need to do.”  He looked over Kris’ shoulder again to Glitch, “You want to do it too?  It'd be nice to get a couple of you and Jay together.”

Even if these were just test shots, and never used anywhere outside of this room, it would be nice for Kris to have a couple of pictures to hang in the apartment.  Adam had some up, ones of him and Allison, some with Drey, even some old ones of him, Neil and their mom.  Kris didn’t really have any. 

Glitch looked over at Kris and sighed, “...this isn't really a question, is it?”

Drey was nervously bouncing from one foot to another, “I'm not going to tie you to a chair or anything.”  His voice dropped low and only Adam could pick up the soft, “That's what Gee is for!”

Well, Adam had thought only he could hear that, but judging by the look on Kris’ face? Not so much.  Kris edged closer to Adam and Adam tightened his arms momentarily, giving Kris support.  Gee didn’t like anyone except Drey, but somehow Kris had snuck under the Viking’s hard shell and Gee wouldn’t harm a hair on Kris’ head even for inadvertent eavesdropping.  Glitch was a whole different fire fight though.

“Drey...” Adam said warningly.

Drey shrugged and turned to Glitch, “Completely up to you.”

Glitch looked at Drey and rolled his eyes, “...fine.”

Drey squeaked and dived for Glitch, hugging him tight.  Adam spun Kris to face the pair so they could both watch Glitch try to worm his way out from Drey’s iron grip.

Adam leaned in close, “Do you want to warn him about the fittings or should I?”

Kris grinned evilly, “He'll be fine.”

Adam laughed and crossed to the couch, pulling Kris into his lap.  Glitch managed to worm an arm free but Drey was still practically humping his leg.  Gee was watching from the doorway, a small smile on his lips as he watched.

Drey disengaged from Glitch eventually and looked him up and down.  Adam nudged Kris.  Drey knew Kris’ measurements by heart.  He was obsessed with getting Kris into clothes that fit properly, not the baggy clothes that Kris favored.  Adam wasn’t complaining of course; Kris’ ass looked _fantastic_ in Drey’s creations. 

Drey pushed Glitch towards the half finished fitting room, “Okay, Glitch, strip!”

“Dude!” Kris called to Glitch, “Close the damn curtain first!”

Drey looked him up and down, “I can work with that.  Gee, honeybuns, I’ll need my measuring tape.”

Gee reappeared in the doorway, holding out Drey’s tape.  Adam swore he could see Glitch shrink under Gee’s glare.  Gee handed over the tape before heading back to whatever he had been doing in the back.

“So we can run now, yes?” Kris asked, hopefully.

“Uh uh,” Adam whispered the words, leaning in to nibble at Kris’ ear.  “You are going to rock this babe.  I can’t wait to see you strutting your stuff in front of the camera.  You’re going to look _hot_ babe and I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my hands off you.”

“Juniper,” Drey shouted.

Adam started. Drey was standing right beside them.  Even Glitch was grinning at them.  Kris kissed Adam one last time made his way over to the fitting room.  Adam crossed his legs to hide the effect that Kris had on him.  Damn, he loved Kris. 

An email notification popped up and Adam opened it, letting the text scroll across his vision.  It was an email from Nitro, a merc that Adam knew back in San D.  He was someone that Adam trusted and he knew that any email from Nitro was going to be something of interest.

 

> _SF,_  
>  _Got a lead on Jackass.  He’s been hiding in a block of corp owned flats in d-town SD.  C’s been poaching on turf and stealing contracts.  Gonna storm the flat and take him out.  Got a crew ready, usual names, couple news but solid.  Thought you’d like to know.  Know that he’s been asking Q’s about you and yours.  He’s not remembered your boy’s name yet.  Got a few runners laying out some false trails for you.  We get him, you and I are even, k?_  
>  _Nitro_.

 

Crusader was still searching for information and still failing, but he was stepping on other people’s toes.  That wasn’t smart. 

It worried him that Crusader was staying in a corp controlled apartment in downtown San D.  Corp controlled apartments were secured and monitored.  To get in there, you had to have corporate ties to the corporation or a lot of disposable income.  Adam wanted more information.  He needed more information.  Adam drafted a quick email back to Nitro.

 

> _Nitro,_   
>  _Thanx for info.  Score’s settled if everything goes well.  What corp controls the apt?  Any probs, lemme know.  Zombies have an interest if you need backup.  Mention J to the sentries if you need an escape route._   
>  _SF_

 

Hopefully, this would be an easy run for Nitro and very soon, Crusader wouldn’t be a problem.  He crossed his fingers and sent a quick text to Hijack’s Little Helpers:  _TRACE LAST EMAIL TO PICK UP LOCATION.  SURVEILLANCE ON NITRO.  MONITOR JOB ON CRUSADER.  TRACE OWNERSHIP OF APARTMENT WHERE CRUSADER IS STAYING.  TRACE LINKS BETWEEN CRUSADER AND CORPORATION OWNING APARTMENT._

He got an immediate confirmation back and he settled back down on the couch.

Drey pulled back the curtain and Adam pushed himself to his feet.  Drey’s new line was significantly different from anything he’d done before and wow!  On Kris, it looked so damned good.  Adam wolf-whistled and Kris flushed. He bit back the possessive urge to just carry Kris back to their apartment and lock them both in the bedroom.  He at least had to wait for Drey to get his photos.  After that, all bets were officially off. 

Kris swallowed, fidgeting nervously, “So, when are we doing this?”

Drey looked around, “Just as soon as the photographer arrives.”

“Okay....when is that?” Kris asked.

“Any minute…” Drey was half way through answering when a young guy popped his head in the door and looked around nervously. 

“Hi, I'm here for the shoot?” the guy looked nervous, but Drey welcomed him in.

Glitch looked the kid up and down, “Heeeeeeeey!”

There was a predatory gleam in his eye that made Adam nervous.  At least it looked like Glitch was over the hurt and ice cream part of the breakup. 

“Um, hi. This is the right place?” the guy asked.

Drey was buzzing around and gathering up clothes from the front room so Kris stepped up, “If you're looking for Dorsett Gibson, yeah.”

“Great.  I’m Greg,” the guy introduced himself, “Where do you want me?”

Kris turned to Drey, “Ask the designer, man.”

Drey popped his head back up and led Ted into the workroom where Gee had been studiously setting things up.  There was a full lighting rig up and various backdrops ready to go.  Adam had to admit that he was more than a little impressed. 

Kris was flitting around, not sure where to put himself and Adam beckoned him over.  He saw Drey’s overly stuffed makeup bag sitting on a counter nearby.  Adam spared a moment to relish the way that Kris _let_ him manhandle him up onto the counter.   Kris didn’t need much primping but Adam knew from experience that if he needed something on him or he’d look washed out under the intense lights.  Adam would be damned if his boy wasn’t going to look perfect.  Kris looked worried.

Adam smiled, “It’s just a little eyeliner, a bit of foundation, and...  I think you're gorgeous already but under the lights…”

Kris leaned forward to kiss Adam, smiling, “You think I'm lovely passed out in my boxers.”

“And I'm right,” Adam grinned and handed him a compact mirror so that he could see what Adam was doing.

It was just a light brush of foundation, making him a little darker than usual but on camera he’d look just right.  A little eyeliner to make his eyes stand out and a little bit of highlighting on his cheekbones and he was done.  It was nothing over the top, nothing even close to what Adam himself wore, but Kris looked perfect.

Kris looked at himself in the compact and sighed, “I guess I'll do?”

Adam leaned in close and took Kris’ hand, carefully kissing his forehead, “You look fantastic, babe.”

Adam looked over his shoulder, finding Glitch looking on.

Adam gestured to Kris, “You want me to...?”

Honestly, he didn’t know if Glitch had ever worn makeup but he certainly hadn’t over the weeks since he’d shown up at their apartment. 

“...make-up?” Glitch asked and Adam nodded, “Yes. I don't think I'd survive kissing you.”

Kris laughed, “Damn straight.”

Adam smiled and kissed Kris gently, “No offense, Glitch, you're not my type.”

“You’re not mine either, sunshine.”

Glitch hopped up on the counter beside Kris and presented his face, puckering his lips and batting his eyes.  Adam rolled his eyes and started to color match foundation.  Glitch couldn’t sit still for even two minutes and was moving this way and that trying to see what the photographer was doing.  Adam soldiered on though, pinning Glitch to the spot with a hand on his shoulder, but it took Kris’ elbow to the side to make Glitch hold still long enough for Adam to finish.

The photographer turned just as Adam was finishing Glitch’s eyeliner, “I'm ready if you guys are?”

Kris was up first and the photographer moved him here and there, directing Kris as best he could but even Adam, who had spent hours in front of photographers taking promo shots and working out album covers, couldn’t work out what the guy wanted.  Kris tensed more every time the guy lowered his camera.  Twenty minutes and less than ten shots in and Kris was about to walk off the set.  Drey was biting his nails, and looking to Gee for help.  Time to step in. Adam tapped Drey on the shoulder and took his place. 

“Jay, babe, turn this way, relax your arms,” Adam directed, “Just shake them out.  It’s just test shots.”

Kris shook his arms out and nodded but he went right back to the stiff poses and Adam tried to work out how to get Kris to just… relax.  Really it was the photographer’s fault.  He couldn’t  who seemed a little green and unable to say what he really wanted.  Gee was growling in the background and that wasn’t helping either.  On top of that, Drey was bouncing from foot to foot and radiating enough nervous energy that Adam was half-surprised Kris hadn't just bolted already.

Adam glanced at the previews as well and shook his head.  He stepped up, getting between Kris, the photographer and the rest of the room

He reached out, running his hands down Kris’ arms, “Just relax babe. It's just me and you, okay? Close your eyes and just listen to my voice. You look so hot right now.”

Kris looked up at him, his pupils blown wide and he looked _hot_.  Adam stepped back and the photographer clicked the shot! 

Drey smirked and made a big show of fanning himself. “Perfect!  That was so hot! That’s what we wanted.  A quick change and we’re going to need you to do that again.  Glitch, you’re up while Juniper is changing.”

Adam stepped back and helped Kris change, stealing more than a few kisses.  Kris looked debauched when he went back out, but he was relaxed and smiling and damn he looked _fierce_.  Adam stood behind the photographer this time but he didn’t look down at the previews.  He couldn’t take his eyes off Kris, not for a second. 

The photographer called a wrap on Kris and Adam was there and being pulled into a kiss that made his toes curl.

“We can go home now, right?” Kris asked, looking up at Adam.

Adam kissed him again, “You don't wanna go out somewhere? Dinner?”

He really didn’t want to go out to dinner but Kris hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day and well, Kris would need his strength for the things Adam had planned for the rest of the day.

Kris grabbed Adam’s t-shirt and dragged him down.  The kiss was hot, heavy and okay, fuck dinner, Adam was going to bend Kris, do him right here, right now. 

Drey’s wolf-whistle reminded Adam of their audience and okay, Adam was a strategic goddamn genius.  He had a plan.  He didn’t even give Kris a chance to stay goodbye to Drey or Gee or even Glitch, just pulled him right out the door and handing him his helmet.  Kris was laughing and Adam kissed him breathless.   They could totally order in...much, much later.


	7. Chapter 7

Cheeks had turned out to be more persistent than Kris gave him credit for.  Nearly a month after their first meeting, he was sitting in the living room, coffee in hand, telling Kris and Glitch about the deplorable market in designer firearms.  Cheeks had followed Kris home from a maddening mid-morning shift at _Idolize:NYC_ at the end of the first week and Kris had been desperate for human company that didn't expect him to flirt, supply alcohol or clean up after a night of acrobatic sex.

That was Kris' excuse and he was sticking to it.

Kris did have a genuine objection to cleaning up after acrobatic sex that he wasn't actually involved in.  Particularly when it was acrobatic sex in his apartment, using the lube he and Adam bought.  Unfortunately, given that he lived in the apartment, not cleaning up meant living with the reek of sex and playing 'What the hell just squelched?' every time he sat on the couch.  Glitch's rediscovery of his libido was probably positive in terms of his mental health but Kris really could have done without a front row seat to Glitch working through the 'sleep with everything willing' stage of his break up.  He'd forgotten how ... _enthusiastic_ Glitch's preferred partners could be.  He was honest enough to admit that a lot of it was jealousy.

Adam's one day off had become no days off at some imperceptible point during the following week and he was up to his eyes in putting the finishing touches to his band.  He had made the effort to get home more or less on time on Date Night but he was always exhausted and usually they just about made it to cuddling on the couch.

Cheeks was convinced that Adam was cheating, of course.  Kris had put up with his constant needling comments for all of fifteen minutes before shutting him down.  Kris knew exactly what Adam was spending all that time on; the suite were spending most of their uptime tracking him and the many, many, many different people he had meetings with.

He even had Adam's permission to stalk him and his business life.  Well, okay, permission was probably overstating it.  Kris had confessed the suite were keeping detailed tabs on his activities and forwarding the interesting bits to him after the first week of half-hourly updates.

_"I can tell them to knock it off?"  Kris had offered.  The suite's programming wouldn't allow them to reject a formal command but their cognitive abilities meant they'd have found a hundred different loopholes before the minute was out.  Still, not creeping out the man he loved was worth dealing with the infinite recursion of "But can't we just...?"_

_He hadn't been expecting Adam to laugh.  "I kinda figured they were doing that already.  I've kinda taken advantage of them actually, they've been helping me screen musicians."_

_"Oh.  I can still tell them-?"_

_"I knew you were a sneaky-brilliant data—runner_ before _we met, best in the world," Adam had pointed out reasonably.  "I trust you, which kinda means I have to trust them.  They already tracked down everything I ever did, even before we formally started going out.  They were watching out for you by watching me and I am never going to have a problem with that.  If they do something inappropriate, we'll deal with it.  It's not a big deal.  Just... you know, as long as they're not watching me in the can."_

Kris really did love that man.

There was nothing Cheeks could say that was going to change that and, Kris had to give the guy credit, he'd realized that faster than Drew had when he'd first met Adam. Cheeks seemed to be planning to be there to pick up the pieces instead which was less stressful for all concerned. Adam hadn't said anything about Cheeks, though Kris was sure Firecracker or Drey had mentioned it. Kris was curious about Adam's side of the story but if Adam didn't want to talk about it, Kris wouldn’t insist.

Cheeks had gotten better about Adam; he still point-blank refused to talk about their relationship except as the worst mistake of his life and he got catty if Kris mentioned plans with Adam.  He'd also stopped trying to find Kris a pre-emptive rebound which meant Kris was willing to be seen in public with him at least.

"So," Cheeks said.  "I was down in the Wall Street district and apparently MegaComp just blew three quarters of their stock price."

"Sucks to be them," Glitch said cheerfully.  "Shouldn't have tried to claim their kick-backs on their tax return."

Kris shook his head ruefully.  It had taken them an hour the night before to add the data to the tax forms and he had been sure they would check it before submitting.  He now owed Glitch five bucks and a coffee. 

"You boys want a top-up?  Kris offered.

"God, yes," Cheeks held out his mug.  "That is just obscenely good."

"I'm good," Glitch was less than a quarter of the way down his mug.  "Put a fresh pot on, would you?"

"I'm not your slave, dude," Kris chucked one of the sofa cushions at him as he stood up.  "I am so looking forward to when you move out and I get to mooch off your coffee machine."

"My coffee machine is going to be better than yours!"  Glitch hollered and Kris could hear his smile.

"This is your hypothetical coffee machine in your hypothetical apartment?"  Cheeks asked dryly.

"It's still better!" Glitch insisted.

"Honey," Cheeks paused for a pointed second.  "In your head, everything's better.  This is how we know you're delusional."

Kris laughed as he filled the two mugs with the last of the pot and set the machine brewing again.

"So, what does the flashy green light mean?" Cheeks asked.

"What flashy green light?"  Kris called.  The only flashy lights that he could think of were the lights on the alarm panel and those shouldn't be flashing unless the suite was broadcasting an alert.

"The ones on the wall," Cheeks confirmed.

That should just mean someone was coming to the door who wasn't a threat.  Kris paused, pot in hand.  The only other person that would fit the suite's green-light was-

"Hi babe," Adam's voice came from the front door.  "I'm home!"

The screen in the corner flashed a warning.  Guns drawn.  Kris dropped the mugs.  Cheeks cursed and Kris heard the click-snap of live-wires anchoring themselves in his guns.  The hot coffee droplets scalded his hand and Kris hissed, sticking his fingers into his mouth.

There was a crash from the general direction of Glitch.  The crack of a gunshot was deafening.  Cheeks' voice, cold and dangerous, was nearly lost in the echoes.  "Don't even think it."

Kris dived for the door, mouth already open on a shout.  "Jesus Christ! CHEEKS, KNOCK IT OFF!"

"Fuck,” Adam was standing just inside the door, back flat against the wall.  He had his hands up, guns pointing at the ceiling, fingers held out pointedly to the sides, as far as they could get from the triggers.  There was also a new hole in the wall right beside him.  Adam's eyes flicked to Kris then back to the two disproportionately huge guns being pointed right at his crotch.  "Um, Jay... Something you wanna explain?"

"Enough, Cheeks!"  Kris barked.  His heart-rate was climbing.  Both Adam and Cheeks were too-still, two apex predators weighing each other and Kris had to fight the urge to join Glitch behind the couch.  He took a deep breath.  "Put the fucking gun away!"

There was one terrifying moment where they both tensed.  Then Cheeks sat back deliberately.  There was a more muted click as the live-wires disconnected from the guns and slithered back into the recesses on his wrists.  Adam breathed out.  Cheeks curled his lip at him, stowing both guns back in the holsters under his jacket.  "Getting a little rusty there, old man, or does Silver tarnish?"

"Uh, Cheeks-" Glitch squeaked.

"Shut it!"  Kris snapped at them both.

Adam's guns clicked as he lowered them slowly to his sides.  He didn't take his eyes off Cheeks as he slid his guns into their holsters.  The tension in the air felt one wrong blink away from a gang massacre.  Adam angled his head so he was looking at Kris and keeping Cheeks in his peripheral vision. "Jay, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kris assured him immediately.  "Welcome home, I think you already know Cheeks?"

Adam didn't take his eyes off Cheeks, thumb rubbing the grip of his gun.  "Yeah, I know Cheeks.  I just wasn't expecting to see Cheeks in our living room.  Glitch?  You good too?"

Cheeks sniffed disdainfully and sat back, rolling his eyes.  "It's not like I hit him..."

"Peachy," Glitch popped his head up from where he had been cowering behind the couch, eyes still wide enough to show white rims all the way around.  He scooted a little closer to Kris, offering Adam a smile that showed too many teeth.  "Can't you tell?"

"Cheeks, for future reference," Kris said through his teeth.  "You do not come into our home and then _shoot at my boyfriend_.  I don't care if you missed.  You don't do it!"

He turned to Adam who hadn't relaxed and still hadn't looked away from the sneering merc sitting on their sofa.  "Sorry about that.  I wasn't expecting you back so early."

"I see," Adam said, fingers flexing one last time before he lifted his hands away from his guns.  Cheeks sniffed, turning his head so he was staring at the wall over Adam's shoulder.  Adam shook his head. "I'm just gonna..."

Adam took one last look at Cheeks and pushed away from the wall with his shoulders.  Cheeks turned his head, watching him with squinty eyes.  Adam stopped long enough to touch Kris' shoulder, eyes flicking down and catching for a second on the pink spots where the coffee had scalded him.  Kris looked up at him, automatically leaning closer.  Adam's eyes came up and he squeezed Kris' shoulder, turning to go into the kitchen without looking back.

"A-‘Fyre?"  Kris swung around to look after him, confused.

"Time for us to go," Glitch popped out from behind the couch.  His eyes were creased in the corners and his smile wasn't even half-hearted.  He grabbed Cheeks by the collar, dragging him off the sofa and most of the way to door before Cheeks could get his feet under him.  Glitch's mouth twisted.  "See you later, Jay."

Cheeks nodded, shoulders still a tense line and cross-hairs gleaming across his pupils, and let Glitch haul him out into the hallway.  Kris locked the door behind them, taking his time about setting the deadbolts and snapping all of the locks into place.  When he finished, there was still a tense silence radiating from the kitchen. 

Kris rubbed his hands together, feeling the prickle of cold sweat in the small of his back.  Adam wouldn't hurt him but Kris shivered as the skin along the back of his neck prickled around his plugs.  Kris crossed the room as quietly as he could, hesitating in the doorway.  The scars at the back of his neck itched; this sort of silence was the calm before the storm.  This was Adam, Kris reminded himself, not Choppah.  It still took all his courage to cross the living room.

Adam was leaning on the counter, back to the door, as he stared out the window at the blank wall of the building opposite.  His phone and keys were on the counter like he'd thrown them there.  His guns were still in their holster; a good sign.  There was a half-full glass of vodka in front of him that had obviously been full a minute ago; not a good sign.  There was a glass of the dark rum that Cale had gotten Kris hooked on back in San D just to one side.  Adam didn't look around.

"Are you okay?"  Kris looked back at the hole in the wall then at the grim set of Adam's shoulders.  "He didn't actually hit you, did he?"

"No," Adam shook his head, voice strained.  He took another sip of his vodka and the glass clattered when he put it back down.  "No, he aimed wide.  A warning shot."

Kris tucked his hands under his elbows, shoulders bunching defensively.  "Well, I guess I don't have to put a bounty on his ass then."

Adam let out a bark of laughter.  "No.  No bounty, Kris."

"I'm sorry," Kris said honestly.  Adam turned to face him, glass in hand.  "I didn't get the alert you were on your way back or I'd have warned him....or at least taken his guns off him."

"You didn't get the alert?"  There was a snap of anger and Kris mostly managed to suppress the flinch.  Adam took a steadying breath and his tone was flat when he carried on.  "Kris... What was Cheeks doing in our living room?"

"Bitching about being bored mostly," Kris shrugged his shoulders.  "He can't go back to San D until the corp war dies down and he's finding NYC a little claustrophobic."

"Okay, wrong question," Adam put the glass down and rubbed at his temple.  "Let me try again.  When did you meet Cheeks?  When exactly did he become a close enough friend that you brought him back to our apartment, Kris?"

"About a month ago?"  Kris said.  Adam should have known that.  "He kinda doesn't take 'fuck off' for an answer and he's actually a good guy once you get past the bitchy exterior."

Adam closed his eyes for a second, hand hovering between the glass and the bottle.  "A month ago?  Okay…  Okay."

"...is there something I'm missing here?"

"Were you going to tell me?"  Adam opened his eyes and Kris did flinch back from the anger simmering there.

"Tell you that I'd made a new friend?"  Kris swallowed.  "Or tell you that I'd met your ex?"

"Were you going to tell me that your new friend is my ex, a guy that not five minutes ago had a very large gun pointed _at my crotch_!"  Adam's voice rose and he was almost shouting by the end.

"I didn't think I needed to," Kris said, pressing back against the doorframe.  "I figured if Drey hadn't told you, Firecracker would."

"I knew there was something they weren't telling me," Adam laughed, a bitter bark of sound and shook his head.  "I haven't had a full conversation with Firecracker in a couple of weeks.  She's been spending a lot of time down at City Hall.  Explains what she's been dancing around, though."

"Okay," Kris said.  "I'm sorry I didn't bring it up but the impression I got from Drey was that the whole Cheeks thing was something you didn't really like to talk about.  I figured you didn't want to talk about it."

Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair and he sighed.  "It was a long time ago and it was a shitty thing to do to him.  I don't talk about it because there's nothing I can say that doesn't start with 'so there was this one time when I was a complete bastard...'."

"Cheeks hasn't really talked about it either,"  Kris said honestly.  "I didn't ask.  I figured you'd tell me if I did need to ask.  He _is_ certain that you're going to cheat on me too."

"I'm sure he does," Adam sighed, leaning back against the counter.  "Look, it was a long time ago and I was a very different person back then.  I have no intention of cheating on you.  I know it's been tough, but... Kris, I... Shit, I just.... I love you.  No matter what Cheeks says, you know that, right?"

"I love you too," Kris said sincerely.  "And I don't think you're going to cheat on me and nothing Cheeks says is going to make me start checking your wallet or whatever.  When he's not being bitter, Cheeks does have actual redeeming qualities, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Adam tipped his head back and some of the angry tension drained away.  "But he's also very good at getting under your skin and hitting all those little buttons that you don't even know you have.  He hates me, and I wish I could say that he didn't have a damned good reason, but he has a reason and it's a good one." Adam paused, then shrugged awkwardly.  "Just ... watch yourself with him, okay?"

Kris tilted his head, smiling just a little.  "You're the third person to tell me that."

"Yeah, but I know him best," Adam smiled back.

"And you care about him enough to pay for information on any threat to him," Kris pointed out.  "Not really helping your case here."

"It's an old job," Adam grumbled then paused.  "Wait, how do you know about that? Did your ...programs find it?"

"No, it got called in when Glitch and I were over at Dorsett Gibson's new place,” Kris corrected.  "Fortress put a very lucrative price on his head."

"The Fortress job, 'the guys from San D'..."  Adam trailed off and stared at him.  Kris blinked as innocently as possible.  "That was what you were doing, wasn't it?  I didn't get a call."

"No, you had your phone off," Kris shrugged.  "Meeting with your accountant, I think.  The informer called Drey instead."

Adam picked up his glass again and swirled the vodka thoughtfully.  "Okay.  So you met him and then you couldn't get rid of him.  Is that it?"

"Pretty much," Kris smiled and felt the last of the tension leach out of him when Adam smiled back.  "He's actually a lot of fun when he muzzles his inner bitch."

"Okay," Adam sipped his drink and nudged Kris' drink across the counter.

Kris took the offered glass, half-turning to prop a hip against the counter beside Adam.  The rum left a warm glow the whole way down his throat and Kris swayed a little closer to Adam.  "....it's just nice, you know?  To have a friend who isn't living with me or a hundred miles away or too busy to hang out.  He's the first friend I've made since San D that isn't your friend first."

"Well, he's definitely not my friend," Adam curled an arm around his waist and he smiled when Kris glanced up, worried for a second.  "I understand, and I'm happy that you're getting out and doing things and making friends, but it's just...  It's Cheeks, you know?  Of all the friends to make, you manage to find Cheeks."

"Hey, at least now I know that you've always had taste," Kris set his drink down by the sink.  "And a lack of any recognizable survival instincts."

"I like to live dangerously," Adam grinned down at him.

Kris curled a hand around the back of Adam's head, coaxing him down into a kiss.  "I really am sorry.  I really thought you knew about it."

Adam pulled him closer and kissed him back with an urgent fire.  "Next time..." he kissed Kris again, pressing him back against the counter.  " _You_ tell me.  That way I don't have to pick plaster out of my hair or try to duck behind that little table to keep him from filling my pants with lead."

"How many psychotic exes do you have?"  Kris made his eyes wide and cracked up at Adam's shifty look.  "Honestly, I'm just surprised he got the jump on you.  Getting a little slow in your old age?"

Adam growled, crowding closer and kissing him again.  "I wasn't expecting to get shot at in our apartment."

"Uh-huh," Kris laughed against his lips.  "Surrrre you weren't."

"I haven't left wet towels on the bathroom floor," Adam said, hands sliding up under Kris' t-shirt, rough fingers against soft skin.  "My socks are in the laundry basket along with my underwear and I don't put empty cartons back in the fridge.  See? No reason to get shot at."

"I would never," Kris' breath caught as Adam nipped at his throat, tipping his head back a little, "never ever shoot at you."

"That's true," Adam's amused huff of breath against his neck made Kris shudder.  "You'd put me on my ass though."  Adam nipped the frantic pulse at the base of Kris' neck.  "With one kick and then sit on me - and not in the fun, sexy way."

"Or I'd put you on the couch," Kris managed.

"Or that," Adam grinned and kissed his way back up to Kris' mouth.

Kris pulled him into a kiss that left them both panting and settled his arms around Adam's waist.  "Enough grown-up communication talk for now?"

"Probably," Adam leaned back and looked him in the eye, sobering for a beat.  "I do love you though.  I don't say it enough, but I do."

"I love you enough to know you love me even when you don't say so," Kris stood on his toes to kiss him again and Adam dragged his teeth along Kris' lower lip.  "Also, I picked up a fresh bottle of lube this morning.  Just saying...."

Adam laughed for real, hugging him closer.  "You know... I like the way your mind works. Sexy and evil.  Evilly sexy."

Kris hooked fingers in Adam's stupidly intricate belt, drawing him in closer so Kris could taste his wicked grin.  Adam's arm around his back was enough to lift Kris off his feet and Kris relaxed, letting it happen.

Adam tasted of vodka and heat.  The hand still tucked into Kris' shirt slid up to flick gently at the hoop in his nipple.  Kris nearly sent them both tumbling to the ground as he twitched.  Adam broke the kiss to stare down at him, pupils dilated.  Kris strained up to kiss him again, lips just brushing Adam's lower lip.

"Bedroom," Adam growled and Kris nodded eager and clumsy.  Adam backed him out of the kitchen, across the living room, lifting his head long enough to look at the door before he went back to sucking the skin just where Kris' shoulder curved into his neck.  Adam's tongue was rough and Kris was going to have a red-blue hickey for _days_.  The sting shivered between pleasure and pain and Kris groaned.

The bedroom door slammed as Adam kicked it shut and Kris felt the edge of the bed against the backs of his knees and sat down hard.  Adam towered over him, hand sliding along his cheek and his fingers brushed the still-tender skin on his neck.  Kris shivered again and Adam stopped.  He blinked, pupils contracting.

"Kris?  Geez, are you okay?  Okay, wow.  I got you good, huh?  Sorry about that." Adam's voice sounded gentle as he shifted gears and Kris wanted to howl with frustration. 

Adam was always, always, _always_ careful.  It wasn't even like Kris didn't know why; months of worry until the static cleared meant they'd had to be careful.  Adam was _good_ at sex.  Better than good; Adam was _awesome_ at sex but as nice as it was to have sex that was slow and loving, Kris really wasn't in the mood for chick-flick softcore.

He caught Adam's belt, pulling him sharply forward.  Adam hadn't been expecting it - he fell forward, both of them ending up flat on the bed with Adam's hands braced on either side of Kris' head.  It made the space between them smaller and shadowed and Kris looked up at him.

"See, the thing is - I love you and I love having sex with you," Kris began, hitching the belt up so he could rub circles into the soft skin of Adam's belly with his thumbs.  He didn't look away from Adam's narrowed eyes.  "But if you don't stop playing mother-hen and _fuck_ me in the next five minutes, I'm telling every-one we know that the whole 'Silverfyre' persona is writing checks the rest of you can't cash."

Adam's eyebrow shot up and he leaned back.  Kris tried to glare up but he was panting, his skin too hot and tightening.  Adam's mouth closed and he smiled, slow and wicked.  Kris rolled his back, tugging on Adam's belt but Adam could have been made of lead for all Kris could move him.  Adam licked his lips, tongue pink against his lip gloss.

"We can do that," he promised, voice a throaty purr.  "Game on, baby."

Adam sat back, pinning Kris' hips to the bed, a relentless weight and looked down at him.  Adam's eyes were almost black and he was still smiling in a way that sent fireworks down his spine.  Adam's smile was feline and predatory.

"Lose the shirt, baby," Adam settled his hands against Kris' stomach.  He didn't do anything but Kris sucked in a breath and wiggled until he had his shirt bunched up around his shoulders.  Adam moved, quick as blinking and kissed him.  His hands stayed on Kris' stomach, warm and solid and he laughed as Kris thrashed loose the stupid t-shirt which he hated and god, would it kill Adam to rip it or something?

Adam's hand came down on the tangle of cloth that was once Kris' favorite shirt and Kris froze in place.  Adam was still so close that Kris could taste the vodka on his breath and he was watching Kris with the absolute, focused attention that made Kris feel squirmy and embarrassed and... wanted.

"Okay?"  Adam asked and Kris blinked.  Adam's grip on the t-shirt tightened for a second, just enough that Kris could feel the cloth tightening around his wrists.  His heart jumped and the muscles in his chest knotted.  Oh.  After the first frozen second, Kris rolled his wrists; not really putting his full strength into it.  It was a test and the second Kris moved, Adam loosened his grip immediately.  Kris took a gulp of air as his chest relaxed.

He had to lick his lips before he could manage to say anything.  "Yeah, okay.  That's oh-!"

Adam's head dipped again to mouth at the ring through Kris' nipple.  The rings were new - normally Kris preferred barbells but Adam had bought them last week and they'd been on the counter this morning and-  Adam tugged lightly on the ring and Kris' mind whited out under a static of _want_.  Adam teased him a second longer before drawing a line down to the center of Kris' chest with his tongue.

Kris wiggled and arched but Adam dragged his tongue so, so slowly that Kris wanted to scream.  At last, Adam made it there, brushing a feather-light kiss to mark his place.  Kris could feel the brush of his eyelashes and his skin tingled.

"Adam-?"  Kris pleaded.

"Love you," Adam turned his head enough to kiss the other nipple, tugging lightly on the ring and laughing when Kris' body jerked.  "Love that you're pierced.  You're so fucking responsive."

"Adaaaaam," Kris whined and Adam leaned up to kiss him, stealing the air out of his lungs and leaving Kris gasping for air but still trying to reach for him.

"So hot, baby," Adam's free hand ran down his side to dip under the waistband of his jeans.  "Love you any way I can get you but _fuck_ , you're hotter than the sun like this."

"Please, Adam," Kris arched up as Adam's fingers skimmed his hip and Adam kissed him again, hard enough that Kris' lips felt tender and Adam's eyes gleamed as he looked down at Kris.  " _Please_!"

"I got you," Adam promised, his attention shifting back to Kris' chest.  "You can't even imagine how hot you look, the things I want to do to you, Kris."

Kris couldn't get anything like a coherent word out of his mouth.  Adam's breath against his navel made him buck desperately and even his comfortable, baggy jeans were too tight.  Adam's laughter made him shiver and his eyes closed.  In the dark, he felt the cotton against his wrists and the whole space around him was too tight, too crowded and Kris' pulse spiked.

"Kris," Adam's voice.  Adam's voice and Adam's breath against his face.  Just from that, Kris' heart steadied.  "Open your eyes, Kris."

Adam's voice was quiet and confident.  Kris breathed in.  "Open your eyes, baby."

Kris' eyes fluttered open and Adam kissed him, a softer but still demanding kiss and Kris' heart skipped a beat for a very different reason.  Adam drew out the kiss until Kris was half out of his mind and kissed him again as Kris panted.

"Just me and you, okay?"  Adam promised.  His voice was thick and husky and just a little breathless.  The flawless perfection of Silverfyre was being lost and Kris felt a surge of satisfaction.  "Just you and me and we can stop any time you want, okay?"

"If," Kris panted, smiling at the way Adam's gaze snapped back to his mouth.  "You even think about stopping?  I really _will_ shoot you."

"Can't have that," Adam grinned lazily down at him.  "Just lie back, baby.  I'm going to blow your mind."

Kris laughed and groaned.  "That was an _appalling_ -!"

He lost the last of the sentence in a choked gasp as Adam neatly tugged away his jeans.  There was a flash of that wicked smile and Kris curled his fingers into his t-shirt at the first gentle pressure.  Adam worked him open, kissing him and whispering against his ear as Kris tried not to go out of his mind.  The stretch was an ache that Kris barely noticed.  Adam's breathing was heavier and Kris jolted at the first brush against his prostate, angling blindly for Adam's mouth.  He felt like he had back when he'd tied his brain into the ‘Net, like his mind was too full of sensation and craving to fit in his brain and the world was flying past in a blaze of color, too hot to touch.

"Love you," Adam breathed and Kris hissed as Adam pressed into him.  The t-shirt ripped as Kris arched up into him.  Adam caught Kris' mouth in a kiss that made his toes curl as he pushed deeper and Kris keened into the kiss.  Adam felt ...invasive, like he was taking up all the space inside Kris.  It should have been terrifying but as Adam began to move, the thrill that electrified his whole nervous system was pure pleasure.

"A-Adam!"

"I have you, I love you," Adam's voice was scraped raw and Kris' fingers found Adam's wrists as the wave of pleasure surged and he was begging Adam, pleading in a hoarse voice that he didn't even recognize.  Adam's words were coming faster, tumbling over each other in a breathless stream. "Come on, baby, come on.  Love you so much."

Kris couldn't even breathe but he found a scream somewhere and felt his body locking around Adam as the whole world collapse in on him in an explosion of light.  The last discrete sensation he felt was Adam's teeth closing on the hickey on his neck.

Sprawled out on the bed under Adam's weight, Kris' thoughts coalesced slowly.  He had just about enough energy left to _breathe_ and he could feel Adam's chest heaving and sweaty against him.  They lay like that for an eternity, trading dreamy, weightless kisses as their heart-rates slowed and Kris rolled his shoulders.  Adam's head came up and he kissed Kris' ear.

"You okay there, baby?"

Kris laughed, voice a scratchy whisper.  "Holy cow, that was awesome!"

Adam's answering smile was at least ninety-nine percent pure smugness.  He pushed himself up enough to reach for Kris' wrists and Kris landed a clumsy kiss just under his heart.  Adam's muscles twitched and Kris heard a barely stifled giggle.  Adam ducked his head back down to kiss Kris, tender on Kris' swollen lips.

"Hold on, baby," Adam turned his attention back to the t-shirt.  "Let me just get you loose."

"Mmmhmmm," Kris hummed, letting himself go boneless as Adam carefully extracted his wrists, kissing the chafed skin and rolled them over.  They wound up curled up together under the blankets in a sweaty tangle and Kris snuggled shamelessly, eyes sliding closed.

It was another ten minutes before Kris felt anything like human enough to hold a conversation.  He opened his eyes to find Adam propped over him, looking down with a fond expression.  If Kris hadn't known Adam was a cold-blooded, ruthless merc, he might have called it 'besotted'.  Adam brushed a thumb over the corner of Kris' smile.  Kris turned his head to kiss the fleshy pad and Adam smiled.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, expression serious as he cupped Kris' cheek.  "It got a little ...intense there.  You're not hurt?  You're-"

Kris bit his thumb and tipped his head back enough to mock-glare at Adam.  "Exactly what part of 'Holy cow, that was awesome!' did you not understand?"

Adam laughed and kissed him again.  "No more of that whole 'checks I can't cash' shit then?"

"Well," Kris utterly failed at swallowing down his grin and stretched languidly.  "I don't know about that.  I kinda liked the results."

"If you want to play rough, baby, all you gotta do is ask," Adam drawled and Kris shivered.

"Don't say things like that when neither of us can back them up," he complained, poking Adam in the side.  "Also, we'll starve."

"There's this wonderful invention," Adam grinned down at him.  "It's called 'take-out' and they'll deliver even!"

"Well," Kris huffed, stretching and feeling the promise of the pleasant ache he was going to have later.  "If you'd rather have takeout than steak, I guess we could do that..."

"You never said there could be steak," Adam poked him back.  "Steak was not an option I considered.  Steak is awesome and also, not something I thought we could have!"

"It is date night," Kris pointed out.  "And you swore you were going to be back on time.  I was going to make BBQ marinade and everything."

"I love you," Adam said in an awed tone of voice.  "Seriously, I adore you so much."

"Well, you want takeout..."

"Steak beats takeout every single day of the week," Adam said, eyes big and serious. 

"Okay," Kris sat up.  "You're going to need to pick up some wine - I was going to call you when you got out of that last meeting and ask you to stop at that wine shop you like on your way home."

"I can totally handle the wine," Adam rolled off the bed and started pulling clothes out of the wardrobe.  "Leave it to me, babe."

"That gives me enough time to take a shower," Kris rolled more carefully off the bed and Adam was suddenly right back in front of him, hands on Kris' elbows.

"But, what's the point of getting clean?" Adam sing-songed at him, eyes going dark as he looked Kris up and down.  "It just means that I have to waste time getting you dirtied up again when I get back."

"But I'm-"

"-Sexy and so unbelievably hot that even steak is only just enough to get me out of bed with you?" Adam finished for him.  "Seriously, Kris, you look like sex personified right now."

Kris looked up at him and sighed.  Adam was pouting, just enough that he could totally deny it if Kris tried to call him on it.  He'd already lost this fight; it was just a question of how long he wanted to prolong his own suffering.

"Fine." Adam whooped and actually punched the air. Kris shook his head, smiling despite himself. "You're a freak, you know that?"

"But I'm a freak coming back to a smoking hot boyfriend, steak and a whole night of sex," Adam stuck his tongue out at Kris.  Kris laughed and Adam kissed him again, tumbling him back into bed.  "I'm also the freak who's going to get wine right now before even steak isn't enough incentive to leave."

Kris kissed him.  "I love you, even if you are a freak."

"Love you too, babe," Adam kissed him as he zipped his jacket closed.  "And I'll be right back."

Kris watched him go and he was probably smiling like an idiot but he honestly didn't care.  He was in love with probably the single most wonderful man on the planet - he'd be silly if he wanted to!  He got out of bed more gingerly than Adam had.  The aches were settling in but he felt good.  He pulled on his jeans and contemplated the ruin of his shirt.

His t-shirt was tied into a knot of sweaty, stained fabric and Kris wrinkled his nose at it.  He wasn't keen on cooking bare-chested but he really didn't think that t-shirt was salvageable.  He also didn't really want to wear a fresh one until after he'd showered.  He kicked something soft and looked down to see Adam's t-shirt pooled on the floor.

It was ridiculously huge on him and Kris had to keep hiking up the collar but it smelt of Adam and the spicy cologne he liked.  Adam was the only one who was going to see him and if Adam had a problem, well, Kris could probably sweeten his mood.  With no one there to judge him, Kris was totally okay with being a sap in the privacy of their own apartment.

He did check his phone; two messages.  Cheeks had left a stilted apology and Glitch had left a message, telling Kris that Cheeks was taking him bar-hopping and promising to be back in the morning.  Kris made a mental note to take Glitch to a clinic as soon as he could arrange, just in case.  With that off his mind, Kris turned his attention to making dinner.  The steaks were in the fridge, fresh and waiting for him to actually make the marinade. 

Kris started lining up ingredients next to the hob; a fresh clove of garlic: some of the onions he'd picked up at the Farmer's market: the bourbon Adam owned but never drank: the rich dark sugar that Kris could eat by the bag and the Worchester sauce someone at the club had recommended.  The marinade had been his mom's recipe originally but more than a decade of experimentation had taken their toll and Kris couldn't remember half of what it used to be.  Still, pretty much everyone who'd eaten Kris' version had liked it.

And Adam liked it, which Kris felt was all the justification he needed to keep making it.  Kris was browning the onions when there was a knock at the door.  Adam's phone was still on the counter so maybe it was him?  Kris turned down the heat and crossed over to the door.  The status lights were amber and he hesitated, wishing for his wrist-comp.  Without the connection to the 'Net, he was relying on the status lights to guess who was on the other side.

Another knock interrupted his train of thought and Kris went to answer. The man on the other side of the door had neatly cut grey hair and the bland impersonal smile of a career executive and he was wearing an immaculate pinstripe business suit. His polite glance left Kris humiliatingly aware of how disheveled and thoroughly fucked he looked. The man's oddly familiar blue eyes lingered for a moment on the vivid hickey on his neck and Kris folded his arms defensively. He felt too naked and the way the man was looking at him made him feel he'd been caught skinny-dipping or something.

"C-can I help you?"  Kris lifted his chin and cursed the embarrassed stammer.  The suit was smiling, the sort of smile that meant he was judging Kris and pointedly not mentioning it.  He didn't like this man.

"I hope so," another plastic corp smile.  "My name is Eber Lambert, I'm looking for my son?"


	8. Chapter 8

Nudging the needle towards the red, Adam raced down the street.  A police cruiser in dire need of a tune-up was trying its best to catch him.  Adam outpaced it easily, teasing the cops with his tail lights as he slowed to corner.  They'd decided to give him a hard time when he'd dodged between two of the worst modded cars that Adam had ever seen.  He hadn't done anything wrong.  It was the same old reason, he supposed.  He was a merc outside the merc district.  Real mercs made NYPD nervous. 

He'd only gone so far from their apartment because the local shop hadn't had any of the wine that Kris wanted and Adam wanted to spoil his boyfriend tonight.  They hadn't had a lot of time together recently and after this afternoon, he suspected that Kris was feeling guilty and Adam needed him to know that it wasn't a problem.  Okay, there was a small problem - Cheeks had pulled a gun on him in their own apartment - but Adam wasn’t holding that against Kris.  He had the wine tucked away in one of the many hidden compartments of his bike, bracketed by a wad of tissues on one side and gun cleaning cloths on the other. 

He finally pulled into the parking garage, free and clear.  Grabbing the wine, he secured his bike and headed up the stairs to the main reception area. The biometric scanner lights flashed green and the doors opened.  Suki was behind the reception desk and her hand would be hovering over the alert button until she verified it was him.  Cameras could be fooled and biometrics could be spoofed, but it was a lot harder to fool a flesh-and-blood visual. 

That was the level of security that Adam had insisted on when they'd bought the building.  The other tenants didn't know that he and Kris were their new landlords, and they were both happy to leave that as it was.  The building had been bought using a shell corporation that Kris had set up and not even Allison knew they owned. 

Adam waved to Suki, "Hey.  Clem not with you?"

Clem was the security guard on that night, another ex-merc poached from the _Idolize:NYC_ recruitment list.  Clem had come out in second place to a rather nasty gang fight about six months before Adam had moved to the city and he'd gone to a ripper doc who literally had charged him an arm and a leg to get him back on his feet.  Clem now had top of the range cyber-replacements, paid for by the shell corporation's medical plan.  It had been worth it to be sure of Clem’s loyalty; having him there meant that most nasty situations were resolved before the cops had to be called.  Clem had handled three domestic abuse cases since Adam had hired him and foiled at least twenty burglaries.  The residents, who had complained about the draconian measures at the start, were happier now and reassured that the takeover hadn't been another buy-to-sell scheme that would end with them on the streets and looking for another apartment.

"Hey Mister S.  Yeah, it's dead.  Clem's escorting your guest up.  He should be back down in a second.  You need to speak to him?"

Adam's fingers clenched around the bottle of wine. Guest? Anyone who knew them knew that tonight was date night. Maybe it was Cheeks, back to try to convince Kris that Adam was bad for him? He wouldn't put it past the guy but... Adam tried to smile and breathe, to stay calm.

"Guest?  Didn't think that Jay had invited anyone over," Adam struggled to keep his voice level, "Did you recognize who it was?"

"No, sir," Suki smiled.  "Clem dealt with him.  I was grabbing a sandwich.  From what I saw it was an older gentleman, nicely dressed.  He seemed nice."

Adam frowned.  The description didn’t ring any bells.  He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.  He flicked out the security icon in the corner of his vision and expanded it.  In bright red letters, it declared 'NO SIGNAL' and Adam patted his pocket, looking for his phone.  He cursed at the clear memory of tossing it onto the kitchen counter.  Damnit!  Without his phone, he couldn't connect to anything when he was out of range of a trusted network source and their apartment was too high up the building for him to pick up here.  What the hell had he been thinking, walking out without his phone?  He was smarter than that.

"Thanks," Adam turned and forced himself to _walk_ to the elevator.

He needed to get up to the apartment _now_.  The only older guy that they knew was Drew and he wasn't that much older.  He was still back in San D, living under his new identity and setting up his new web of contacts, just in case he ever needed them.   Maybe it was someone from Gunfire?  No, it couldn't be.  They still thought that he lived above Clarize's cafe. 

Adam tapped the call button for the elevator, pushing it again and again as he stood there, until the elevator pinged open.  Adam stepped in and tapped the button for his floor, holding the door close button down.  He watched the display, willing the numbers to go faster.  Adam kept flicking his eyes across the security icon, cursing each time it displayed 'NO SIGNAL'.  The words were mocking him.  Finally, it flashed amber and displayed 'CONNECTING'.  Adam held his breath as he waited to see what the security interface had to say for itself. 

_"UNIDENTIFIED MALE."_

The text appeared in amber, not in red and Adam allowed himself to relax a fraction.  There was no active threat.  They didn't have the guest's biometrics on record so Adam couldn't tell who it was, but for the moment at least, there was no active threat to Kris and that was good.  Adam still wasn't happy that there was someone he didn't know in their apartment with Kris, but he could breathe easier now.  Kris could defend himself, but Adam still felt that it was his job.  He was the merc, ex-merc.  Kris was still, and always would be, the one with an eight figure price tag on his head and an affiliation to an untraceable group that had every corp running scared.  Kris was the one that Crusader was looking for. While he had a black belt in Jiu Jitsu and wasn't too far behind in Aikido, with more than a passing acquaintance in Capoeira and enough paranoia to make a merc proud, in a straight-up fight with a merc?  Kris would _die_. Adam didn't want to lose Kris.  He couldn't lose Kris.  Not now.  Not ever. 

The doors slid open finally, and Adam ran for the apartment door.  A small set of lights blinking on the door frame, flashing amber with the same frequency as his inner eye display.  Adam put down the bottle of wine and pulled one of his guns, wires sliding out of his wrist to connect in.  The targeting scope focused automatically, tracking everything in his field of vision.  With his free hand, Adam fumbled for his keys but before he could slide them into the lock, the door was pulled open and there was Kris. 

Adam couldn't hide his relief to see Kris standing there uninjured, "Security said that we had a guest and..."

Kris cut in, annoyance flashing across his eyes, "...you have a guest. And you are never allowed out without your phone again!"

Adam looked beyond Kris and into the apartment.  He could see someone sitting on the couch.  No details, just grey hair and a corporate suit that probably cost almost as much as the armor that Adam was wearing.  Adam's eyes went to Kris again, looking him over.  He couldn't see any blood, no new injuries, but he needed to be sure.

"Are you okay?"

 Kris nodded, "I'm fine." 

He had his t-shirt bunched up, holding it up to cover the angry purple love bites on his neck.  He chewed his lip for a second, looking up at Adam with wide, brown eyes.  He seemed to be debating what to say.  Adam rubbed a hand over his arm, trying to lend him some strength.

"But....Adam?" Kris covered Adam's hand with his own.  "It's your father."

Adam stilled, his eyes flying to the man on the couch again, "My father? Okay. That's not what I expected."

"He wants something but..." Kris shrugged, the neck of the t-shirt falling off one shoulder, "well, I guess he doesn't like me."

Adam gathered Kris into his arms, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"He doesn't like me very much, either," Adam tried to reassure Kris.

"He says it's a family matter."

Adam sighed, "Okay, leave it to me. I'll get rid of him soon as I can."

Kris's arms rubbed over his back and he leaned up to kiss Adam, "Be careful. He's so corp that my teeth hurt."

Adam tried for a smile.  Kris was right.  Eber Lambert was as corp as they came.  Cut him and he’d bleed red tape.  For him to show up here, in their apartment?  He needed something and Adam was looking forward to telling him to get fucked.  He headed into the living room, keeping Kris behind him.  He didn't trust Eber.  Not for a second, and he wasn't putting Kris in the middle of this.

"Hello, Eber," Adam kept his voice level.

Eber pushed his coffee away and stood, turning to face Adam, a smile plastered across his face.  It didn't reach his eyes and Adam barely bit back a sneer.

"Hello, Adam.  How are you doing?  I heard Gunfire Records had offered you a contract.  Congratulations.  I was so proud," Eber walked around the couch, closing the distance.

"What do you want?" Adam's words were harsh and stopped Eber in his tracks.

"As I told your... him, it's a family matter.  Can we talk in private?" Eber's eyes flashed to Kris before turning back to Adam.

"You can say what you want in front of him.  I trust him."

"Yes, well," Eber didn't look convinced, "It's delicate, Adam.  I'm sure that he won't mind giving us a couple of minutes."

Adam held up his hand, "He's not going anywhere.  You're not going to be here that long.  Get talking."

"Adam, please, there's no need..." Eber spread his hands placatingly, voice gentle.

"It's been eight years since I last saw you.  What exactly do you think I owe you?" Adam's eyes narrowed.

Eber looked at him, "I'm your father."

"I don't have a father.  I haven't needed one since you walked out on mom over eighteen years ago, so don't even try to pull that bullshit with me," Adam folded his arms to keep himself from pulling his guns and shooting the man where he stood.  "What do you want?"

"Adam, please!"  An edge of desperation crept into Eber’s voice.

Adam turned to Kris and Kris was there, his hand resting at the small of Adam's back.  Adam closed his eyes and took a breath. 

"Jay, can you give us a minute? Please?"

He didn't want to send Kris out of the room but if it moved Eber towards the door, then... maybe it was worth it.  Kris looked up at him, searching his face and eventually nodded, "Sure.  I'll be just through there," he pointed at the kitchen, "just call and I'll be here."

"Thanks, Jay," Adam nodded and with a final caress, Kris left, taking the wine with him. 

A clink caught his attention, and Adam saw Kris put a bottle of vodka and a glass on the breakfast bar before he disappeared into the kitchen.  Adam knew that Kris would be able to hear every word, just as he had when Glitch had shown up, but it gave the illusion of privacy and hopefully that would be enough to get his father talking.

Adam turned a cold glare on Eber, "What do you want?"

"Can we sit?" Eber was drawing this out and Adam snarled.

"What do you want?"

"It's about your brother," Eber said finally.

"Neil’s dead.  You were at the funeral, remember?" Adam spat at Eber and couldn't help the cruel smirk when Eber flinched.

Eber took a breath, "Not Neil.  David."

"Please, Adam, just hear me out," Eber was desperate now, holding his hands out in front of him, "I lost one son, I can't lose another.  Dear God, I can't lose another.  He's signing on to Mercy, and he won't listen to me.  They sent him the paperwork already.  Adam, he's signing onto one of their street teams.  You know what they're like, don't you?"

Adam did and part of him was tempted to relent.  Mercy was one of the small security corporations that operated mostly on the East Coast.  Adam hadn’t run up against them during his merc career but they had small offices in San D and Los Angeles.  Their street teams had a bad rep; the street mercs who had run against Mercy called them ‘bullet magnets’. 

"Damn it, Adam, he stopped listening to me and he won't even answer calls from his mother anymore," Eber sat down heavily.  "He's holed up in one of their training camps.  I can't get to him.  I can't get him to see reason.  Please, Adam, you've got to help me."

Adam didn't move, didn't say anything.  The last conversation that he'd had with Eber was going around his head. 

 _It had rained during the funeral.  His friends watched his back, armed and armored, but they’d hung back from the gravesides.  Adam felt a little easier with them there.  He hunkered down and closed his eyes.  It had been three long, unending days since_ interNexx _’s corporate goons had shot both Neil and his mom in cold blood.  Adam had found them and he still couldn't close his eyes without seeing their bodies stretched out on the floor.  His cries had brought the neighbors and his neighbors had brought the cops.  They'd declared it a legal hit.  They hadn’t even closed the door behind them when they'd left._

 _Adam had been on his way to the synagogue that very morning when_ he'd _shown up, dressed up in a perfect suit and with words of condolence on his breath.  He'd stood beside Adam as the rabbi said his words and shaken hands with the people who'd come up to share their grief and offer support.  He'd been gone for ten fucking years and now here he was with everyone saying that they were sorry for his loss.  He hadn't lost anyone.  He'd walked out and left them struggling to put food on the table.  He hadn’t even made the effort to haul his ass back to San D to help Adam make the arrangements for the funeral._

_Even as he stood by their graves, he could feel Eber's presence behind him, and he resented it. He was encroaching on Adam's grief, on Adam's loss and he couldn't even give him the five minutes he needed to say his final goodbyes in peace.  Try as Adam might, he couldn't simply blot the man out.  He could feel Eber's eyes on him, watching his every move.  He apologized to his mother and patted the earth beside Neil's grave before turning to face Eber._

_"There's a place for you in New Jersey, if you want it," Eber's voice was quiet._

_Adam stared at him and shook his head.  This was no place to argue._

_"I didn't expect you to come," Adam said eventually._

_"Of course I came," Eber looked at him as if Adam was a fool to even doubt it.  "I loved your mother, and Neil.  It's...  It's the least I could do."_

_"If you loved her, if you loved us, you wouldn't have left."_

_"It was complicated, Adam," Eber tried to explain, but Adam wasn't in the mood to hear it._

_He pushed past Eber to where his friends stood waiting._

_"So that's it then?" Eber had called after him.  "You're going back to the streets?  Even after..."_

_Adam turned, "Even after what?"_

_"Nothing," Eber said, "Nothing.  I just thought that..."_

_Adam walked back to Eber and looked him in the eye.  It was an odd sensation, being taller than Eber.  The last time they'd been face to face, Adam had been at least a foot shorter and Eber had towered over him.  The man was small now, shoulders hunched against the rain._

_"What did you think?" Adam challenged, "That you'd show up and magically, we'd be one happy family again?"_

_Eber reached a hand out to him, and a flash of light caught the shiny ring that he now wore on his left hand, engraved and with a diamond in it that sparkled, and Adam couldn't hold back the venom._

_"Go back to your new wife, Eber."_

_"You used to call me 'Dad’."_

_"I used to call you a lot of things," Adam spat the words out, "Not anymore.  Go home, Eber.  Leave me alone."_

_"To do what?" Eber's voice rose, "Die on the streets like your brother?  I told your mother that it would end like this.  That if she left you and your brother run free that sooner or later something like this would happen, but she wouldn't listen.  You see what your choices have done?  Your brother followed in your footsteps.  Now he's dead, and Leila is too.  Isn't that enough to make you rethink what you're doing with your life?"_

_Adam's eyes narrowed, "You weren't here.  You don't know what you're talking about.  The streets didn’t kill Neil.  The streets didn’t kill Mom.  The goddamn fucking corp killed them.  The same corp you would have been so fucking proud of Neil for joining!  They killed my family."_

_"I know that we just put your brother and your mother in the ground, Adam.  How much more do I need to know?  You were always the smarter one, much more street smart than your brother.  You should have talked him out of it.  You should have taken better care of him.  He idolized you.  Whatever you did, he'd do it too.  It wasn't a surprise that he decided to follow you onto the streets.  Why did you let him?"_

_"Fuck you," Adam spun on his heel._

_"Damn it, Adam, come back with me.  It's not too late.  I can find you a job.  You can turn your life around," Eber called after him, "It doesn't have to end like this.  You're better than a fucking street merc."_

_Adam didn't look back, "Go home, Eber.  There's no place for you here."_

"He'd listen to you," Eber continued and Adam’s breath caught. "You're a merc, you've got a good reputation.  If you told him to leave Mercy, not to sign the papers, he'd listen."

"So, it's a good enough living when you need a merc to do your dirty work for you?"  Adam hissed.  "Last time we spoke, you couldn't shut up about my ‘lifestyle choice’.  Well, fuck you.  Your son got himself into trouble, that's his business.  Neil went out onto the streets, but that was his own choice and I got him off them as soon as I could.  It took me a long time to come to terms with that and to stop blaming myself for their deaths.  No thanks to your little rant at the fucking graveside!  I still haven't forgiven you for what you said at the funeral."

Eber’s eyes widened as Adam's voice rose, "I didn't mean it, Adam.  You've got to know that.  I was hurting too."

Adam snorted, half a cruel bark of laughter and half disbelief, "Just like me? Then where were you for the ten years before they died? You fucked off across the country. You didn't send as much as a birthday card over those ten fucking years. How dare you come to my apartment now and ask me to do anything for you. Get out!" Adam was shouting now, and Eber cowered. "Get your ass out of our apartment and if I see you within a mile of here, if I even think that you're planning on another little unscheduled visit, I will put a bullet in your brain and I won't lose a wink of sleep over it!" Eber didn't move and Adam shouted again, "GET OUT!"

Adam turned his back and distracted himself by pouring a large glass, too large, but he didn't care.  He felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and put down the bottle.  His hands were shaking as he heard the door click closed and he saw his security display flash from amber to green.  They were alone again.  Emotions that he'd buried, thoughts that he worked hard to keep deep inside, swarmed him and it wasn't until he felt arms hugging him close, that he finally let go.

Kris’ arms curled around him, and Adam clung on until he ran out of tears.  He hated looking weak usually, but somehow, being with Kris he felt safe.  He trusted Kris.  It was just the two of them and Kris had seen him at his best and at his worst.  He trusted him, more than anything.  Without a word, Kris kissed him and handed him a wipe, sending him towards the shower.  Adam loved Kris a little bit more for giving him time to rebuild himself.

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.  Dark teartracks smeared down his cheeks, his eyes were red, and his cheeks blotchy.  Adam wiped off his makeup, scrubbing at the skin pink before stepping into the shower.  He turned the water up until it was almost scalding him.  He leaned forward, hands resting against the tile and just let the water cascade over him.  Neil was forefront of his thoughts and even now, even after all this time, he still felt a stab of loss. 

As much as he didn't want to listen to Eber's words, he couldn't help but dwell on them.  He had another brother out there, somewhere.  Another brother.  Eber hadn't elaborated on his family beyond David and Adam wondered...  Maybe he could have Kris look into Eber's family, find out some information for him.  He didn't want to draw Kris in, but...  Maybe he could ask the Helpers?  They'd be able to find information without tipping Eber off.  Then, then maybe he could decide what to do.  The kid had to be, what, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen at most?  Wasn't that a little young to be recruited by a corporation? 

Adam tilted his head up and the water fell on his face.  He straightened, pushing his hair back and letting his fingers run through the wet tangles, pulling lightly on the knots, washing out the last remnants of product, before picking up the shampoo.

He had no free time and if he did, could he really justify spending it tracking down some wayward kid and pushing him back towards a man that Adam hated?  But could he live with himself if he didn't help the kid and something happened, something... fatal?  Could he really turn his back on the kid just because he was Eber's son?

He couldn't just turn his back on the kid.  He couldn't be that person.  He wasn't doing this for Eber, though - he could go fuck himself for all Adam cared - and he wasn't even doing it for David.  No, he was doing it for Neil.  And for his mom.  Adam could save David from the corp.  He could be someone that they would have been proud of.  Closing his eyes, he did something that he hadn't done for a long time.  He prayed.

Feeling stronger, Adam finished washing and turned off the water.  He had the outline of a plan already forming but he knew that he'd need more information before he could even start thinking about how to extract David from the mess he'd managed to get himself into.  Running a hand through his wet hair, Adam wrapped a towel around himself. 

He dressed quickly, just sweats and a t-shirt, and picked up his PADD.  Adam tapped an icon at the edge of the screen and a search box appeared.  Adam keyed in Mercy.  He was surprised to see that the top result was a merc forum that he had trawled through when he was younger.  Sending his username and password, Adam waited for the information to load, quickly scrolling down until he found what he needed.

 

> **MERCY SECURITIES INCORPORATED**
> 
> **Corporate Headquarters** : Washington, D.C.  
>  **Regional Headquarters** : New York, Austin, Los Angeles, Boston
> 
> **Approx. Resources** : 27,000 security staff; 3,000 administration staff;  
>  **Ratings** : #3 (Eastern Region); #17 (Western Region); #12 (Central Region)
> 
> **Security Rating** : B6 (Mobile Teams armed up to submachine gun standard; medium training levels; hostile but moderate)  
>  **Personal Opinion** : Operatives are inadequately trained and sent out into the field before they are ready with only a handgun to their names.  They have to buy their own armor and most of them don't have the money to invest in a good set rated past handgun.  If you're on this board and above NEWB level, don't even think of joining this corporation. 
> 
> If you're running against Mercy, BEWARE. 
> 
> They are a starting point for anyone not good enough to find a real corporation or without even the basic skills, but they are taught to shoot first and they tend to cause a lot of collateral damage.  Generally, they recruit straight from high school and give the kids enough to brag about that they sign on the dotted line eagerly.  They shower them with gifts that they pick up cheap and the kids are overwhelmed.  The School Districts on the West Coast (LA, SD, SF, etc) have wised up to their tactics and they've now banned Mercy from coming within five hundred meters of any school, but they still find a way to recruit the idiots.  If your kid brother/sister/other has been approached, get them out of there quickly! 
> 
> BUT!
> 
> Mercy is not a corporation that you want to mess around with.  They have resources and if you successfully run against them and they find out, they will throw the corporation at you, and you WILL be up against kids.  If you don't want to murder kids, and it is murder because they don't have even basic merc training, don't take a Mercy job. 
> 
> The unsubstantiated bit now:  It's been rumored that Mercy have started fitting kids with offensive cyberware before they even sign the contracts so that they are forced to sign and stay until they've paid off the cost of their 'ware.  Given what they plug into the kids, this can be at least a two-three year contract.  HOWEVER, the 'ware is cheap and prone to disastrous failure.  There is also a rumor out there that if the kids already have some 'ware fitted, that they remove the 'ware and replace it with what they tell the kid is top of the line stuff, but it's below their original spec.  WATCH OUT for this Corp.  It's LETHAL!

 

Leaving his PADD on the bed, Adam went to find Kris.  Kris was cooking up the steaks and Adam's stomach grumbled as he smelled the wonders coming from Kris' grill.  Kris had his wrist-comp on again, Adam could see the lights blinking as Kris turned the steaks.  Kris was still wearing Adam’s over-sized shirt, slipping off one shoulder.  Adam pressed himself in against Kris' back, his arms wrapping around Kris' waist.

Kris leaned back into Adam, "Hey.  How're you?"

Adam smiled, leaning in to kiss Kris, "Better now, and worse.  I looked into Mercy."

Kris turned to face him, "Yeah, they're a nasty outfit."

"The merc forums out there all say pretty much the same thing: 'don't join'."  Adam shook his head, "I don't know what the kid thinks he's doing? I mean? Did he just lie about his age? Can people still do that? He can't be more than what? Fifteen? Sixteen?  Isn't that a little young to be poaching kids?"

"Seventeen," Kris answered after a pause. "Well, seventeen and half, technically. He's eighteen in August."

Adam stilled, his arms tightening a fraction around Kris' waist. Eighteen?  There was no way that the kid could be eighteen.  Eber had vanished eighteen years ago, give or take a couple of months, so that had to mean...

"Eighteen in August? Oh," Adam was quiet now, his mind sliding around to put the pieces together.  "Okay. That's older than I thought he'd be."

Kris' hands found his arms and he held on.  Adam looked down at Kris' hands, at the wrist-comp that flashed and hummed quietly.  Kris wouldn't lie about something like this.  So that meant that whoever David's mom was, she'd been pregnant before Eber had...  Adam didn't want to think about it.  Cheeks flashed across his mind and Adam closed his eyes.  He'd cheated on Cheeks, and Cheeks had never forgiven or forgotten, still wanted to kill him, and he'd only been going out with Cheeks for a few months.  Eber had been married to his mom for almost fourteen _years_!  Adam didn't have an idealized view of romance but he just couldn't picture how Eber could do that.  How must his mom have felt?  She'd never said anything.  She'd never even hinted at it.

Kris rubbed his hands along Adam's arms, "...Yeah. I checked. Apparently this is why your parents formally divorced.  Your father was involved with the current Mrs. Lambert for eighteen months before your mom filed for divorce."

"Eber... Eber was having an affair."  Putting it into words didn't make Adam feel any better.  "Mom never said anything," he shook his head.  "She just said that he was gone and that he wouldn't be back.  Neil and I, we thought that we'd done something, but she said that it wasn't us.  She made excuses for him and we never pressed it."

Kris hesitated, "I-some of this came up back in San D.  There's more..."

Adam stepped back, away from Kris and braced himself against the kitchen counter.  He felt like he was preparing to face a kamikaze street gang, and honestly, he'd rather have the gang.  He needed to have the facts.  Once Eber had stepped out of his life, Adam pushed him out of his mind, and never looked back.  But if he wanted to help David, if he wanted to help his _brother_ , then he couldn't hide from this anymore.

"Okay. Tell me. What did you find?" Adam asked.

Kris pulled the steaks off the pan and put them aside to rest.  Adam watched as he covered them and then clicked his fingers.  The vid screen beside him flashed to life and data started to scroll past, lines of code, images and then it settled down into a single file, Eber's picture sitting in the top corner.  Adam's eyes traced over the screen as Kris gave him the highlights.

"Divorced your mom in 2019; there's a string of alimony filings," he pointed at the screen and Adam followed his finger, "The last date is ...the day before your mom and brother were murdered.  She never got a cent. Eber is currently working for Sonic Equity in a middle management position. Average base salary is about 150K and change. Married for 17 years, three children; David at seventeen, Elijah at sixteen and Avigail at fourteen.  I've run some personality profiles on them and the suite have pulled some information from their school records and well, Avigail is probably the closest match to you.  She's stubborn and has a ruthless streak.  She's got a couple of incidents in her file from when she's stuck up for some of the smaller students.  Elijah is a bookworm.  He's got good grades and there's a couple of corporations already sniffing around.  I've found an email trail from his guidance councilor about a funded college scholarship from Intelligent Cybernetics Inc.  He's not been approached yet, but they're planning on doing it soon."  Kris took a breath and sighed, "And then there's David.  Your father had a corporate internship all ready for him but he didn't want it.  It's still open but he's not interested."

Adam stepped closer to the screen, watching as the images flashed up, "Three?" He trailed off, wiping a hand over his face.  He couldn't think about this right now.  "What else?"

"...he's had people – several people, actually – keeping an eye on you for the last ten years," Kris said quietly.  "Since we moved to NYC, it's been three people; one of them's working at _Idolize:NYC_. That's probably how he found the address."

Someone in their family, someone they spent time with every damned day, someone _Kris_ spent time with every damned day was selling information to Eber?  Adam snarled low in his throat.  Maybe even someone that Adam had hired himself?  No.  He wasn't going to let that stand.

"Send me their details. I'll handle them."  He took a deep breath and unclenched his fists, "What else?"

"Done," Kris confirmed.  He paused, biting his lip and Adam watched him as he debated with himself.  Adam reached out to catch his hand, squeezing once and Kris sighed.  "Adam, the merc forums are pretty on the money here; Mercy's one of the corps that we, DEx, get a lot of requests to hit. But based on what we've found....David's not being recruited as cannon fodder. He's being recruited as a scapegoat."

Adam went dead still, hardly daring to breathe, "You're sure?"

Kris tapped a button on his wrist-comp and the display changed again, "Certain. You've already saved his life, you know. They were planning to drop the hammer tomorrow but the new VP of street ops pulled the plug."

How?  Why? He hadn't even known about the kid’s existence until tonight.  What could he have possibly do to save the kid?

Adam frowned, "How?"

"Nine months ago, that same VP used to be middle management at Trojan Securities," Kris pulled up an email chain.  "They're assuming you know the kid and that if they trash him, you'll call in DEx to level them."

Adam barked a laugh, "Not a million miles off what I want to do. I need to meet this kid, though, see what he's like. If they're assuming that I know him, they're going to start pressing him for info."

Kris shrugged and tapped his wrist-comp again, "He's in training camps most of the day. But they're being 'treated' to a night out on Saturday. I've changed the reservation to _Idolize:NYC_. We should be able to get you five minutes alone with him then?"

Adam nodded, "I'll set something up with security and Irene from venue management."  Adam walked over to Kris, pulling him close and just holding him for a long minute, "Thank you for this."

Kris leaned up and kissed him, "We'll do some digging tonight and have everything we can find for you tomorrow. You're not to worry until then, okay?"

Adam tried to sound sincere as he answered, "Okay. Love you."

"Love you too," Kris smiled, "and if you don't eat your steak now, I'mma eat it for you."

Adam leaned down and kissed Kris again, before taking the plate with his steak on it and settling down to eat it.  Kris served up the sides and sat down beside him, curling into Adam's side.  As date nights went, it hadn't been the best, but they were together and that was all that mattered.


	9. Chapter 9

Kris barely stirred when he felt Adam's lips against his cheek.  He was heavy with exhaustion; muscles pleasantly achy and his lower back twinged as he rolled closer, nuzzling blindly against Adam's hand.  Adam smelled of water and cologne and getting-up-and-dressed smells and Kris grumbled.  He didn't even try to open his eyes.  Adam could get up if he wanted to, Kris wasn't getting out of bed and Adam couldn't make him.

Kris wasn't sure how much of that was intelligible but Adam laughed and kissed him again, sounding far too awake for someone who hadn't gotten to sleep until after two in the morning.  Stupid mercs and their stupid endurances.  Adam was gone before Kris had managed to pull together more than an irritated grunt so he rolled into the warm Adam-scented space and snuggled back under the covers. There was a brief prick of pain but Kris was already falling back asleep.  He drifted in the warm darkness, edging back into sleep when his phone went off like a pocket grenade.

Kris fumbled for it, nearly knocking it off the bedside locker in his ill-coordinated lunge across the bed.  He thumbed the green button after nearly dropping the buzzing phone.  "...if something is not on fire, I am hunting you down and hurting you.

"You awake?"  Gee sounded gruff and irritable, just like he always did.

"Not by choice," Kris groaned as he rolled onto his back.  "Gee, please tell me you didn't ring me just to see if I was awake."

"No," Gee grunted.  "You busy today?"

"No?"  Kris had an hour long date planned with the shower and he had a few things he needed to look into for Adam before that night but there was nothing earth-shatteringly important on his to-do list.

"Come over?"  Gee almost made it sound like a real question and curiosity chased the last of the cobwebs out of Kris' mind.

"What? Why?"  Kris snapped on his wrist-comp and double-checked the alerts that flashed up in the lower corner of his vision.  Dorsett Gibson's system was flagged as steady green; up and running fine.  "Your system is still up and running and everything looks okay from my end."

"No, not that," there was a pause before he continued.  "The photos. Need to talk to you about them."

".....why?"  Kris managed after a moment.  "What's wrong with them?"

"Nothing."  There was an expectant pause then Gee added, “Want you to do some more.  Glitch too."

"Uh-huh," Kris grunted but if Gee was calling, this was probably something serious.  "Okay, I need to run some errands first and it'll probably take a while to dig Glitch up so we'll be in by twelve unless you need us right now?"

"No," Gee sounded slightly less pissy than he usually did.  "Whenever you can come."

"Okay, see you around twelve, then?"  Kris rubbed at his eyes.

Gee grunted and there was a click, then the dial tone.  Kris smiled despite himself.  Good to know some things never changed.  He closed his eyes but it was too late; he was awake.  Kris fought the inevitable for another minute but there was a ping of new alerts and, jacked into his wrist-comp, Kris couldn't ignore the flashing icons.

Cursing all mercs and their addiction to early mornings, Kris rolled painfully out of bed.  He was stiffer than a fence post, all the bites and bruises of the night before throbbed and a cautious wiggle of his hips confirmed the need for a long, hot shower.  Kris was half-tempted to risk a bath but he didn't have the time.

He did ping Glitch on his way into the bathroom.  He hadn't thought to ask where Glitch had spent the night before and felt a little guilty.  Only a little, though.  Adam's father showing up had been enough of a disaster to distract Kris from anything that wasn't immediately Adam-related.  Kris scanned the data from the night before, flagging details that needed to be double-checked and setting fresh search parameters for the suite.  He'd be damned if he let Eber get the jump on them again.

Leaving the wrist-comp on the counter meant he had nothing to do as he soaked up the steam and the hot water but think.  Family was one of those things that he and Adam never discussed; Kris had searched out Adam's past in San D but tried to respect his silence.  The only family Adam claimed was Firecracker and the only non-DEx family Kris would admit to was Kickstand.  Had he been a coward not to bring it up?

Adam was more generous with the inevitable loss of privacy that came as a package deal with Kris and DEx than Kris could hope to be.  It had never seemed fair to ask Adam to fill in the details Kris knew were there.  Adam had virtually no secrets from the suite, and therefore from Kris, as it was.  Kris couldn't bug him about one of the things that he did manage to keep under wraps.  Everyone deserved some measure of privacy.

That was the noble reason but it wasn't the whole reason.  Kris was, at least, honest enough to know that he hadn't ever asked Adam about his father because he hadn't wanted to answer the inevitable counter questions.  Kris braced his elbows on the wall and bowed his head under the water.  Family was a minefield filled with Kickstand, DEx, Zombies and nightmares that he tried not to waste any of his time on.  He had Cale, he had DEx and now, impossibly and wonderfully, he had Adam.

That was all he wanted but had he been selfish to assume that Adam felt the same way?  True, Adam hadn't reacted well to Eber but the mention of a brother...  Should Kris have told him about David earlier?  Would Adam have wanted to get in touch?

"Hey, you drowning in there or what?"  Glitch shouted through the bathroom door and Kris startled, foot skidding on the wet floor.  "I am eating all the food if you don't haul your scrawny behind out in the next five minutes."

"Fuck you," Kris shouted back as he shut off the shower.  "At least I washed this morning!"

"Are you seriously impugning my hygiene?"  Glitch demanded incredulously.

"Every day and twice on Sundays," Kris said easily as he pulled on a shirt and an appropriately baggy pair of jeans.  He glanced in the mirror and winced.  The hickey on his neck/shoulder was vivid red, fringed with black-blue shadows and Kris really, really hoped Gee didn't want to take more photos today.  There wasn't enough concealer in Manhattan to cover that bruise.  "You have a good night?"

"Can't complain," Glitch shrugged as he leaned into the doorframe.  "Like you, I see.  Wow!  Are you even going to be able to walk?"

"Less snark, more food," Kris kicked him on general principle and Glitch hopped backwards.

"I should just let you starve," Glitch muttered darkly, glaring at Kris.  "See how you like it when I'm mean to you."

"What did you do with yourself last night by the way?" Kris asked, still a little guilty.  After Adam had thrown Eber out, Kris had locked the door as tightly as he could; even Glitch wouldn't have been able to crack that lock.  "Did Cheeks find you a hotel?"

"Nah, I crashed in the place across the hall," Glitch jerked a thumb at the front door.  Kris blinked before his brain kicked in and he understood.  There was only one other apartment on this floor and by unspoken agreement, Kris and Adam hadn't even considered letting it.  It wouldn't be safe.  Kris had put in some intrusion alarms as a precaution but Glitch of all people wouldn't be slowed down by that.  "Nice place.  I mean, it's not the palace you and Silver-boy are rocking here but it was ...comfy."

Glitch looked completely casual, fingers barely twitching and if Kris hadn't known him better, he would have thought Glitch was completely relaxed.  He tipped his head to look closer at his friend.  "Is that a hint?"

"Is what a hint?  Hint, what?  There is no hint here," Glitch fell over himself and Kris laughed.

"I knew it!  You want that apartment!"

"I-" Glitch stopped and sighed.  "Yeah, I kinda do.  I mean, you guys have been awesome hosts and I'm loving the meat-space interaction but...."

"But," Kris prompted.

"You're still in the honeymoon period," Glitch coughed a little.  "And with him working so hard and you going stir-crazy, I'm starting to feel like a third wheel whenever you're both home together.  It's not a nice feeling, dude."

"Yeah," Kris said pointedly.  "I know.  And I appreciate that you only brought those three guys home but it's a little ....you know, embarrassing to walk in on you and a TomKat caterwauling on the sofa."

"Oh, huh, yeah," Glitch smiled nostalgically.  "He was a good lay.  If it wasn't for the fur and the shedding, I would totally do him again."

"Not in our apartment," Kris said tartly.  "I don't know, I mean, I've got no problem with you taking the apartment; it would solve a lot of the visibility problems and give us a neighbor that ‘Fyre doesn't have to get paranoid about.  How are we going to make it look like you can afford it?"

The coffee machine finished brewing as they came into the kitchen and Kris went to get a mug. He wasn't actually worried about Glitch's ability to pass under the radar; he wasn't that narcissistic. Skellington could hide an elephant in Glitch’s financials and not even the IRS would notice. Glitch moving out wasn't going to be a financial problem but randomly collected hook-ups aside, Kris hadn't seen Glitch make one friend in the three months he'd been living in New York. Data runners without anyone to keep an eye on them got into trouble. Kris was proof of that and just because he'd survived wasn't a guarantee that anyone else would. Sheer dumb luck was not a sound tactical plan.

"Room-mate?" Glitch suggested eventually as Kris put on some toast.  "I mean, it's got two bedrooms.  There's always someone at _Idolize:NYC_ looking for a place."

"Cool," Kris agreed.  Then his wrist-comp beeped and an alert flashed up on the screen in the corner.  "Shit."

The alert had Nox's tag; that meant Mercy.  Kris had set him to keep a running track of everything that the corp was thinking and a snap of his fingers brought up the details.  Glitch came to stand behind him, resting a too-pointy chin on Kris' shoulder as he scanned the reports.

"Damn," he said eventually and it took Kris a minute to finish the report - damn speed readers - and curse agreement.  "Your boy must really be their bogeyman."

"Yeah," Kris couldn't help the twitch of a smile at the thought.  "Still, they're testing to see if he really knows about the kid."

"Moving the team's little visit to _Idolize:NYC_ up to tonight," Glitch nodded.  "Think we can salvage the plan?"

"Yeah," Kris said after a moment of thought.  "We'll have to pull a few strings but it should be possible."

Adam was in the studio and based on Draghos' projections, likely to be there for another two hours.  Kris could and did text him the details but if he wanted to move everything up by a day, he was going to have to talk to Firecracker face-to-face.  He hadn't really talked to her since the Cheeks Incident except in the strictly professional sense.  Still, it wasn't like he was asking for a favor for him; he was asking for Adam.  She wouldn't mind helping Adam out.

"Go get dressed," he said.  "We should have time to stop at _Idolize:NYC_ before we're due at Dorsett Gibson's."

"Sur-" Glitch paused, mouth full of toast.  "Wait, what?"

"Something about the photos.  I think Gee wants them taken again or something."

Kris wound up explaining the whole conversation on the way to _Idolize:NYC_.  The traffic was better than it had been; Fortress had finally stopped filling the sky with drones and the trains were running outside the Dome again.  The club was opening for the lunch crowd, mostly corp suits still young enough to believe they were rebels but there were older execs looking to drown the sorrows that even a double-platinum black card couldn't handle.

No-one looked twice as they ducked behind the bar.  Firecracker's office door was closed but her angry voice was just about audible through it.  Glitch's eyebrows went up and he waved Kris forward.  "Better you than me!"

Kris sighed.  He tapped on the door before he opened it cautiously, ready to duck.  Firecracker was on the phone, expression tight and angry, but she beckoned him into the office.  "I don't care, and don't you dare put me on hold.  You promised that the license would be here yesterday.  It didn't arrive then and it didn't arrive today."

Kris pretended to examine the artwork on the wall - done by the same designer who'd handled the interior of _Idolize:San D_ \- and tried his hardest not to listen in.  Firecracker's voice was crisp and harsh and Kris fought the urge to hunch his shoulders.  He wasn't listening.  He wasn't.

"Okay, I'm going to hold you to that, Jessica," Firecracker said at last.  "Sent out today by courier.  Are you willing to stake your job on that?  No, I didn't think so.  Today, Jessica.  Today or I'm coming to that office tomorrow and not leaving until I get that license."

The phone crashed back into its cradle and Kris scanned the pop-up on the person she'd been talking to.

"Sorry," Firecracker waved a hand at him.  "What can I do for you?"

The suite confirmed Firecracker had just finished talking to Jessica Croydon of City Hall and Kris' jaw dropped.  "Kickstand's _still_ having problems?"

"Yeah,"  Firecracker sighed heavily and reached for the bottle of vodka that Kris had thought was purely ornamental.  "They have his operating license in the permits office and they're so incompetent that they can't even put it in the post."

Kris blinked.  That was pretty bad, even in NYC – proud city of red tape.

"I'm storming the place tomorrow, I swear," Firecracker looked uncannily like Adam dealing with street punks when she frowned like that.  "Kickstand is going to have his license or I'm having her job."

"Good for you," Kris hesitated.  "I hate to bother you when you're busy but 'Fyre wanted me to clear something with you."

"It's fine," Firecracker waved a hand.  "What can I do for you?"

"There's a group coming in tonight," Kris explained.  "They were supposed to be coming in on Saturday but they shifted the reservation.  There's one of them that ‘Fyre wants to talk to in private - any chance we could rig a raffle or something to set up a meeting in private?"

"One winner?" Kris nodded and Firecracker shrugged.  "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Great, thanks," Kris pulled up the data-file on David.

"Just send me a name and description and I'll make sure we rig it properly," Firecracker put the bottle of vodka back down.

Kris flicked a glance at upload status and nodded as the file finished transferring.  "That's him."

"Does this have anything to do with the message I got from ‘Fyre this morning?"  Firecracker asked as she turned to the screen.

"Probably," Kris said.  "But it's really not my story to tell."

Firecracker looked up for a second as she tapped at the screen then she nodded.  "I'll make sure that the floor staff know what's happening.  And I'll bug him about it later.  You're on tonight, aren't you?"

"Yup, Glitch too," Kris confirmed.  "...assuming we survive whatever Gee's planning."

"Awesome," Firecracker's smile turned sharkish.  "I've got a new guy starting tonight.  I'm hoping that eventually he'll be working behind the bar but I want to start him as a gofer.  Can I give him to you?  Would that be okay?  I'd give him to Janice but she's got the old new kid - Sanders or Sandy or whatever - as well."

"It's cool," Kris did feel a little sorry for Samson, the new kid who'd committed the cardinal sin of drinking the last cup of coffee and not starting a new pot on his very first shift.  Under-caffeinated bartenders who'd worked the last shift did not forgive or forget such crimes.  "I don't mind babysitting."

"Great. I'll get you finished as early as I can," Firecracker promised.  "I know you've been working a lot over the last couple of months and I'm sorry I've been, you know, but this whole thing with the licensing and the start-up has got me on edge."

"I can imagine," Kris said carefully.  How long had this been going on?  Cale hadn't asked for help but really, now that he actually thought about it, Kris wouldn't have expected him to.  "I'd swear someone's screwing with you but neither of us turned up anything in the electronic logs."

"I don't know," Firecracker sighed.  "I know that someone's messing this up.  It's the only logical explanation I can come up with.  I've looked into the land records.  I've talked to local business owners and none of them have had any of the same type of problems.  I've had people working on the financials but I can't find any bribes.  Nothing.  It shouldn't be this hard to open a shop."

"Yeah," Kris nodded.  He was going to have to look into this.  "Want Glitch and me to do some more digging?"

"If you could," Firecracker smiled again but she looked exhausted.  "I don't know... It's got a fixer's fingerprints all over it, but I can't find anything.  If this was San D, I'd have this sorted.  Why the hell did I move to NYC?"

"Because it's got 'Great' weather?"  Kris suggested.  If it was a fixer, he was going to need to talk to SYS.  Fixers worked hard not to leave an electronic trail.

"Yeah,"  Firecracker laughed.  "That must have been it!"

Kris smiled but there was a note of hysteria in Firecracker's laughter.  "Seriously, you guys okay?  Every time I talk to Kickstand, he's stressing about being a pain in your ass."

Firecracker's smile faded and she sighed heavily.  "It's just... It's paperwork and it's red tape and it's bullshit!  I had everything for _Idolize:NYC_ done and filed and approved in four weeks.  It's been... eight months and Kickstand still can't even get his power hooked up.  He's got guys living on the floor of the shop because they can't afford apartments.  He's paying them to do nothing but he can't afford to give them full salaries.  I've offered to float him a little something, but he won't take it.  I can't push him, and I don't want to be that type of girlfriend, so I'm trying to help however I can.  But I don't know, Jay, I really don't know if we're okay.  Everything has been about his shop for the last few weeks.  He's started taking on freelance jobs just to stay ahead of the bills and I see him like once a week, if we're lucky."

"Want me to bully him into taking his share from the Trojan job?"  Kris offered because yeah, Cale was the kind of guy who worried about money but wouldn’t take a penny if he was starving.

"You think he'd take it?"  Firecracker's expression showed just how dire the situation must have gotten.

"The joys of being a data runner," Kris grinned, fingers flicking to send the appropriate transfers flashing through the system.  "I can just give it to him."

"Please?" Firecracker lit up.  "I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm almost sure that he's coming to the end of his savings.  If you can give him a bit of a buffer then we have a little more time.  I'm starting to get somewhere with the rest of it."

"Not a problem," Kris frowned.  He was going to need to spend a little more time on the transfers to avoid the monitoring programs on Cale's official bank accounts.  Better to have a clean paper trail if there was someone sabotaging his shop.  "Mind if I hop your connection?  Drey's been using most of D-G's bandwidth and if Gee _is_ planning something, I don't want him to be pissy from the start."

"Go for it," Firecracker handed him the lead for a connection port.

It only took a few seconds to find the fail-safe backdoors that SYS had installed and Kris managed to corrupt every monitoring program connected to Cale's accounts, spreading it around so it looked like the work of a corrupted Trojan virus.  "Done."

Firecracker relaxed and Kris handed back the connector.  "Thank you for that.  Now, if I can get him the license tomorrow, he can start actually planning an opening."

"As long as he remembers to invite me," Kris flashed a quick smile.  "Let me know if you need me to do it again.  It's no problem and it's not like we're hard up for cash."

He owed Cale more than any amount of money could pay and just because Cale would never dream of asking for help didn't mean that Kris didn't want to give it to him. 

"Will do," Firecracker crossed her heart with an impish smile.  "What's happening over at Dorsett Gibson?  I know that you were doing some security work for them but I thought you guys were pretty much done."

"Something about photos," Kris shrugged.  "Gee was the one who called.  I'm totally blaming ‘Fyre for any and every problem associated with this."

"Photos?"  Firecracker grinned.  "As in modeling photos?"

"Yeah," Kris waved a hand.  "It was about a month ago. They needed concept shots for something."

"For the new line?"

"Yeah," Kris thought for a second.  "It's a kickass collection and I’m actually really looking forward to seeing it in modeled for real.  I think it’s going to make Drey famous."

"Awesome,"  Firecracker switched the screen to the accounts for _Idolize:NYC_ 's weekly delivery.  "Let me know if you need anything.

"Will do," Kris smiled and turned to go.

"Jay," Firecracker called.  "I know I've got some ground to make up here so if there's anything I can do, just give me a call and if I can do anything to help, I'll be there."

"Cool," Kris said honestly.  The last time Kris had been talking to Drew, setting up his new identity as a criminal lawyer, Drew had insisted that having Firecracker on side was the single best thing Kris could do.  Drew said she was the best fixer in NYC now and that could be useful. "I appreciate it. You need me to drop back in early to meet the kid?

"He'll be in later for a couple of hours just to figure out the layout and meet some of the crew," Firecracker checked the schedule and nodded.  "If you've got time to spare, yeah, please, drop in as early as you want.  I think you'll be good for him; he's a nice kid.  A little shy, but I think that we can work that out of him."

"All right then," Kris opened the door.  Glitch was propping up the opposite wall, fingers tapping busily.  "I'll talk to you then?"

"Yeah, I'm on the floor tonight so I'll be around,"  Firecracker shared a wry smile with him.  "First drink is on me."

"All right," Kris laughed.  "I'll hold you to that."

Glitch didn't actually ask what had happened during the conversation, he just poked Kris the whole way to the subway, pretending to be stunned that he wasn't missing body parts.  Kris swatted at him until they were sitting in their seats with no-one sitting on the seats around them.  Then he pulled out his wrist-comp and started explaining the problems Cale was having with City Hall via chat client.

Thankfully, nothing distracted Glitch more than a chance to wreak mayhem.  He dived headlong into the City's records, his suite of programs looking for any discrepancies that might suggest a bribe Firecracker had missed.  Kris sat back and worked up a complete profile on David; like hell Adam was getting broadsided by another family member on Kris' watch.  The carriage was mostly empty and they didn't even get a conductor.  Crossing into the Dome was practically routine at this point and neither of them looked up until the intercom pinged for their station.

Kris couldn't ask how Glitch had gotten on, not in the middle of the Fashion District; too many ears and too many corps watching but Glitch flashed him a thumbs up and Kris clapped him on the back.  The street that Dorsett Gibson were on was full of the fashionable elite, shopping on their lunch breaks.  He and Glitch managed to pass unnoticed because in the clean but worn hoodies, they were clearly below notice.

The Dorsett Gibson boutique was busy - mostly with older men and guys who were obviously street-mercs with their gang-tats freshly scrubbed away - and Kris patted the doorframe affectionately  as they came in.  The system AI had pinged them from the street and flashed up a welcome icon as they crossed the threshold.  The door at the back opened a few seconds later and Gee beckoned them with a peremptory jerk of his head.

"Hey," Gee let the door click behind them and glowered at the tall glass of neon green ...liquid was as far as Kris was willing to extrapolate, with equal parts distrust and hatred.

"What's with the nuclear waste?"  Glitch asked from safely behind Kris.

Gee glared some more at the glass.  "Doc said to."

"What is it?"  Kris asked.

"Juice," Gee shrugged at Kris' incredulous expression.  "Drey made it. It's ... natural."

"Are you sure?" Kris asked doubtfully.  Gee had sounded utterly disgusted - as most mercs did when they were given anything but the processed crap their cyber-enhancements required - and Kris had to admit, if anyone could make 'natural' juice look like a twenty buck cocktail from _Idolize:NYC_ , Drey could.

Gee's answer was a grunt that could have meant anything then he drained the whole glass in one gulp.  His mouth puckered into a frown and he wiped irritably at his mouth.  Kris heard Glitch open his mouth and elbowed him in the solar plexus.  Taunting a merc was one thing; taunting a merc that looked to be one very small step from homicide was a whole other game.

"So..." Kris said eventually, for want of anything else to say.  "What did you want us for?"

"Pictures," Gee grunted.

"You already took pictures," Kris pointed out, hitching his hoody up defensively.

"Yeah, but ..." Gee crossed to his desk and started rummaging through the stacks of paper.  Kris managed to elbow Glitch before the inevitable Stone-Age joke could be made.  Gee wasn't good with technology so paper was awesome.  "We, uh, we need more."

He finally pulled out two bundles of paper, glanced over them and held them out.  Kris and Glitch exchanged baffled glances and took the pages.  Glitch's eyebrows hit his hairline and Kris stared down at the cramped lines of text.  It looked like a crash dump print-out for a second before he recognized the densely typed legalese.

It was an actual, legally-binding contract.  Kris skimmed the first few pages and his head started to spin.  He stared up at Gee, jaw slack and Gee folded his arms.

"Drey showed people the photos, they liked them. So..."  he gestured to the contracts.  "Official and all that."

Kris scanned the first page again.  It might as well have been in Egyptian hieroglyphs for all Kris was getting out it.  "...um.  Would you be horribly offended if I asked someone who actually knows contracts to look at them?"

Gee grunted and there was a flicker of something that might have been a smile.  "Yeah, figured you'd do that.  Might want to get an agent too.  Models have those."

"Models?"  Kris snorted.  After the last time, he’d done some basic research and he hadn’t liked what he’d found.  'Fashion Model' was the only career that required more cyber-augmentation and surgery than 'Street Merc'.  Most models died broke and young; blowing their money on the insane amounts of surgery required to reverse the model-standard upgrades. 

"We're not tall enough,"  Glitch pointed out and Kris nodded.  "Or skinny enough.  Or fucked up enough."

True on all counts, Kris' suite confirmed.  Average fashion model height: 6'2, weight: 58lbs, clothing size E0.  Kris didn't really pay attention to the public face of fashion but there was nowhere in NYC that didn't have billboards full of inhuman models staring vacantly into the distance.  The industry standard was for triangular faces, narrow shoulders and narrower hips.  They gave Kris the heebie-jeebies and he'd spent five years living alongside a gang that deliberately tried to model themselves after the walking dead.

"Don't want those freaks," Gee grunted.  "Want real people."

"Okay then," Kris pulled out his phone.  "If you're serious about this?  I need to just make a quick call."

Gee grunted and turned back to the piles of paperwork on his desk.  Glitch tried to use his eyebrows to communicate via semaphore but the call was already connecting.  It wasn't Firecracker who answered but Kris couldn't guess who the guy who did answer was.

"Hey," Kris said, a little surprised.  "I'm looking for Firecracker?"

"Firecracker?"  It sounded like a guy but there was so much noise in the background that Kris honestly couldn't be sure.  "Um... I don't know..." The background noise got louder and Kris heard the guy asking "Anyone know who Firecracker is?"

There was a jumble of voices then the background noise dropped sharply.  "This is Firecracker, who's this?"

"Hey," Kris started.

"Hey, Jay!"  Firecracker chirruped and Kris laughed.

"That was the new kid?"

"Yeah," Firecracker's grin was practically audible.  "He's a little... young, but he's eager."

"We can fix that,"  Kris promised and Firecracker laughed.  "Listen, could you come by Dorsett Gibson's for a bit?  I need your expert opinion."

"Sure, I can get away for a bit," Firecracker sounded curious.  "What do you need?"

"Advice on whether or not to sign the contract Gee just gave me," this time, Glitch elbowed him.  "And Glitch, technically."

"Contracts," Firecracker purred.  "I like contracts.  We'll discuss my fee later.  Give me about twenty minutes?"

"Can do," Kris assured her and she laughed again.  Kris hung up and looked down at his phone with the nagging feeling that he was going to live to regret this.  Glitch was sitting on his heels with his back braced against the wall, finger moving slowly along the lines of legal gibberish.  Kris sighed and settled down to follow his example.

Firecracker showed up eighteen minutes later, sweeping through the last of the lunch crowd with adamantine assurance that made every single stuffed suit and trophy spouse on the street step hurriedly out of her way.  Gee looked up as she came through the door like a tropical storm and then looked back at Kris with an almost smile that could have been approval.  Gee's expressions were never easy to read.

Less than three minutes later, Kris and Glitch had handed over the contracts, agreed some vague idea of limits and been kicked out for admitting that they agreed to do the modeling and thus, undermining Firecracker's case.  Something like that at least; Kris hadn't really gotten the details.  He had gotten a very literal demonstration of 'unstoppable force meeting immovable object' and Glitch was still wide-eyed as the door banged behind them.

"Wanna go say hi to Drey?" Kris suggested after a moment.  "He's got the coffee machine in his studio now and I think we're going to need coffee before this is over."

"A _lot_ of coffee," Glitch agreed fervently.

Drey was in the studio but he was apparently trying to do ten things in the same second.  That, Kris was used to.  The fact that one of the ten things wasn't topping up the coffee machine with fresh beans despite the plaintive beeping?  That was new.  He didn't even notice them coming in - he was wearing the newest _Corto_ visual-interface goggles and the wires - a bright neon purple that matched Drey's current hair color - were plugged into the base of his neck.  The system network in the room was full of data flying back and forth.  The only physical sound was Drey's mutter and swish of fabric but to Kris, the air was humming like a beehive.  Glitch took one look at Tornado Drey and patted Kris on the shoulder.  "I'm gonna find some beans."

"Try the basement safe," Kris nodded and cleared what looked like a hybrid of heavy armor and a tuxedo off one of the chairs.  It was always an education watching Drey work;  Kris had only the most basic sense of how fashion and color theory and shapes all worked to make things look pretty.  He could write an algorithm to assess it and, thanks to nearly a year of living with Adam, he could recognize good clothes by cut, fit and silhouette.  He'd never in a million years be able to create it.

The first time he'd come to Drey had been at Adam's insistence and Kris settled his chin on his hand.  He still had that first set of armor tucked away in his wardrobe and he could remember standing in the back of Dorsett Gibson's small San D shop, watching Adam's eyes go dark and hungry and a heated shiver ran down his spine.  If Adam was to be believed, that wasn't the first time he'd looked at Kris like that but it was the first time Kris had seen himself reflected in Adam's eyes as something - someone - desirable. 

"Um....Drey?"  The first shadow of an idea was forming in the back of his mind.

Drey jumped and spun around, blinking like a barely awake puppy.  "Yeah?  Oh! Jay!"

Kris just about managed to brace himself before Drey bounded over to hug him tight.  Kris' ribs creaked and he managed to squeak out a polite  "Wow, you look busy."

"I'm a little manic, yeah, little ...."  Drey blinked rapidly and swayed a little as his breath ran out.  "Oh wow, why is the room spinning?"

Kris steadied him and carefully sat him down in the chair.  Textbook over-caffination if he was any judge.  "Deep breath, dude."

"Yeah," Drey said a little breathlessly.  "Breathing...I can do that!"

Kris laughed.  "I was going to ask you for a favor but you're looking a little swamped."

"No, no," Drey waved his hands.  "I can do a favor.  Sure, what do you need?  What can I do?"

Kris gave him an assessing look and settled down beside the chair.  "Well, Adam's new band are doing a gig tonight and it's going to be groupie central.  I need your help to not look like the ugly duckling?"

"You are so not an ugly duckling," Drey smacked his shoulder.  "No, no no! I mean, we could do something about your clothes, and maybe your hair..."

"And my everything?" Kris smiled. Drey wasn't the ego-puffing sort.

Drey dragged him over to the mirrors in one corner, tugging disapprovingly at the hoody.  Kris let himself be steered and managed not to laugh as Drey stood back, hands on hips and considered him the way Cale assessed the latest arrivals at his garage.  Drey was only still for a second and then he flew off, pulling things from shelves and muttering as he dug through piles of half-finished outfits.

Drey seemed to find whatever he was looking for and came back to hustle Kris into the fitting room beside the mirrors with an armful of clothes.  "Strip and try these on!"

"Yes, master," Kris joked.  He was looser than he had been that morning and aside from one twinge as he bent to pick up a set of pants, he barely felt the last of the aches and cramps.  "All of them at once?"

"Just the ones on the top,"  he could hear Drey's foot tapping.  "You dressed yet?"

Kris pulled on a shirt that looked like it was made of mercury, silky smooth and clinging to him.  He liked it - aside from the hastily stitched collar that felt like it was made of wire wool.  "I think you're going to have to do something about the neckline."

He pulled the offending collar away from his neck just as Drey peeked in and whistled.  Kris glanced back and could see, reflected over Drey's shoulder, the vivid bruise on his neck.  "Oh my word!  That's... wow, someone had fun last night."

Kris ducked his head but smiled at the salacious tone in Drey's voice.  "I don't kiss and tell."

"We may need to ... um .... I need to ..."  Drey ducked back out to grab one of the sewing kits littering his work table.  He started to efficiently rip at the seams, pulling away handfuls of the wiry decoration.  He was having a muttered conversation with himself as he worked and Kris caught only a few words that made any sense.  "detail...add it here..."

It took another five minutes of Kris being pawed and posed like one of the mannequins before Drey finally stood back.  There were new tucks and seams and the outfit looked more...dangerous.  Kris moved carefully, then with more confidence as the temporary stitches held.  "Happy?"

"Perfect!!"  Drey clapped his hands.  "Now, strip so I can sew those properly."

Kris laughed, batting away Drey's grabby hands to kiss him on the cheek.  "You're a clothing wizard, Mr. Dorsett."

"But of course..." Drey beamed, following him back in and grabbing everything as fast as Kris could strip it off.  "Now... What else... Ooooh, how about a makeover? I could give you a makeover?"

“I could do with some advice…” Kris hesitated but Drey's eyes were shining and he was curious.  He nodded and Drey squealed happily.  "Only if you’re going to be done in time for me to make my shift."

"Challenge totally accepted!!" Drey grabbed a bag of make-up.  "Oh, honey, you are going to look Fab-U-Lous!"

The door swung open as Glitch bumped it with his hip, about two minutes into Drey experimenting with Kris' coloring.  Glitch took one look and burst out laughing.  "Ooooh! Face painting!"

"I can do you too...if you want,"  Drey called then looked back at Kris.  "Can I dress him up too?"

"Sure!"  Glitch said before Kris could even open his mouth with the manic glee of the recently-caffeinated.

"Just don't be so overt about coordinating his style to ‘Fyre?"  Kris interjected.

"Awesome!!"  Drey zoomed over to pull Glitch in front of the mirrors.  Kris wiped at the 'Hot Hooker' red lipstick that Drey had smeared across his cheek.  "I'll have you match Jay rather than ‘Fyre... Trust me!"

"Well," Glitch said, looking a little more dubious as Drey attacked him with a tape measure.  "At least it's good practice for the modeling gig?"

"Keep telling yourself that," Kris grinned.


	10. Chapter 10

He was nervous but only partially about the band.  He was going to be meeting his brother, half-brother, for the first time after the show.  The kid was neck deep in trouble and didn't even know it yet, and Adam owed it to him to help him out.  Eighteen years old and with a naïveté that could only come from never hitting the street, David was easy prey for a company like Mercy.  They would leave David dead on the sidewalk just like _interNexx_ had done with Neil.  

He shook his head and forced himself to concentrate on refitting _Idolize:NYC_ 's sound system.  He’d designed himself, though Kris had handled most of the wiring.  Some of the speakers had started crackling.  It wasn’t a serious issue but Adam wanted everything perfect for that night.

"You got the wire cutter?" Adam called out to Kris who was currently sitting _inside_ one of the huge industrial speakers bolted to the wall.

"No, you have it in your back pocket," Kris called back.

Adam was dressed down in just denims and an old t-shirt, covered in dust and junk that hadn't been cleaned out from behind the industrial sized speakers.  It was hardly the image of an up-and-coming rockstar.  Right now, he was just Adam and he could focus on the rats nest of wires that he needed to sort out before tonight's impromptu performance and ignore everything else.  Or he would, if only he could find the damned wire cutter.

"No, don't think so," Adam patted his back pocket.  "I must have put it down somewhere," he looked behind the speaker he was working on.  His knee found it for him, "Fuck!  Never mind, I found it."

Kris' head appeared out of the speaker, "What did you do to yourself?"

Adam rubbed his knee, "The wire cutters ambushed me."

"Uh-huh," Kris arched his eyebrow with a hint of a smirk.  "The inanimate wire-cutters got the jump on the highly trained street merc?"

"Yeah," Adam pouted, "I was viciously attacked." 

Kris couldn't hold back the laugh and Adam joined in a moment later, shaking his head as Kris disappeared back into the speaker. 

"So," Adam looked down at the bunch of wires in front of him, "is it red to black or red to blue?"

"Red to Green," Kris poked his head out again, "because the guy who installed this was colorblind and didn't ask for help."

"Okay. Connecting now," Adam bit his lip as he connected the wires together.  He pulled out one of his tools and looked at the readings. Everything looked good.  He turned on the power, dialing it up slowly.  "Testing, and connection is good."

Kris nodded and disappeared back into the speaker, "Gimme a sec."

Adam could hear him muttering something and then with a curse, something was thumped. 

"Okay, try it now!"

Adam hooked up the small sound relay and pressed play on the control panel.  The volume was barely above a whisper - he didn't want to deafen Kris - and he scrolled through the settings, watching the levels fluctuate and settle.  Everything looked good, "Everything reads green, but..."  He tuned his audio modules and closed his eyes, "but I'm still getting a little feedback from somewhere."

Kris backed out of the speaker a little, giving Adam a great view of his ass.  He tapped away on his wrist-comp and tracing his way down a wire.  He was muttering under his breath and eventually a hand come back, "Gimme the cutters."

Adam flipped the cutter over and put it in his hand, "There you go, babe."

Kris crawled forward again and Adam heard a couple of snips echoing from the speaker, "That should do it?"

"Okay, I'll give it a shot," Adam tapped the play button again and closed his eyes, letting his levels settle. 

Everything sounded good until an ominous creak threw every line off.  Adam's eyes opened and he frowned.  He dialed down the level-damper’s edits and looked at the speaker.  It creaked again, low and strained, and Adam leaned closer to try to hear where the sound was coming from. 

"Do you hear that?" he asked Kris.

Kris listened for a moment and then nodded, "Yeah, I think it's coming from up here." 

Kris climbed out of the speaker and hopped up on top of it, reaching for a screwdriver as he climbed up.  Kris was flexible as a monkey and twice as agile and Adam never tired of seeing him bounce from place to place as he worked.  He watched Kris twist down behind the speaker to do something.  The speaker creaked again, low but dangerous and then shuddered.

"Wait, don't move!  I think it's .... Get off! Get off now!"

"Fuck!"  Adam bit his lip as pain followed the heat and he saw blood start to well up.  He held Kris close until he could put him down safely.

Kris looked up at Adam, "You okay!?"

Adam considered saying that he was fine but it was obvious he was injured, "My arm... The metal edge caught me on the way down."

Kris grabbed his arm and twisted it until he could see the deep cut.  He poked the edges of it and then moved Adam's hand back and forward.

"...I don't think it's broken," Kris looked up at him, eyes wide with worry and Adam shook his head.

He’d already pulled up the medical panel that usually sat minimized in the corner of his vision.  His bio-monitor was already flashing up a probable diagnosis. Adam shook his head as he read the pre-programmed text.  The programmers for this version of his bio-monitor had lousy taste in action movies. 

"Bio-monitor says that it's 'just a flesh wound'," Adam grimaced, "Grab the first aid kit for me?"

Kris ducked behind the stage to grab one of the many med-kits that they kept stashed there stopping just long enough to kick the speaker as he passed it.  Adam hid a smile at the glare that he gave to the offending piece of tech.  Adam reached for the kit as Kris came back, but Kris slapped his hand away and started pulling out the antiseptic wipes and sprays.  Adam had taken care of minor cuts and scrapes, and even major wounds for himself since he was fifteen but these days Kris insisted on looking over them and fixing up anything he thought was a sloppy job.  Of course, given Kris’ unreasonably high standards, every fix was sloppy in his opinion.  Adam didn't mind.  It was nice to have someone who cared enough to slap his hands away and take care of him.  He sat back and held his arm still as Kris worked, wincing at the sting of the alcohol swabs.

"You should take better care of yourself," Kris grumbled as he dabbed at the cut.

Adam looked down and winced as he saw how deep the speaker had cut him.  The antiseptic had done its job and the pain was fading, but that didn't stop Kris from grumbling.  Still, it wasn't a major injury and Adam considered it a fair trade for saving Kris from a nasty fall.

"You're welcome!" Adam pulled Kris into a kiss.

Kris kissed him back, but he didn't look any happier when he pulled back. 

"I appreciate you saving my ass but you are supposed to be taking care of yourself too," Kris poked him in the chest.

Adam held up his free hand, surrendering to Kris' worry, "I didn't exactly plan on getting caught but, hey, some things are more important than a little skin."

"Lies and damned lies!"  Kris kissed him again.

Grabbing some of the NuSkinn from the medkit, Adam knocked the cap off with his thumb and sprayed it over the length of the cut.  The blood stopped welling almost instantly, the cut sealing itself.  It would be fine in about an hour.  The nanites would work fast, creating a new layer of skin over the cut and then working down into the cut to regenerate the flesh and knit it together.  He'd need to take a couple of supplements in the morning; B-Complex, Iron and maybe Pyridoxine.  Everything else could be handled by an orange and banana fruit drink and a steak, both of which Kris would probably insist on. 

"It'll be fine by tonight," he told Kris.

Kris watched him carefully, taking the NuSkinn off of him and spritzing a couple of smaller cuts that he missed. 

Adam reached out and brushed his hand against Kris' cheek, smiling, "Thanks babe."

Kris kissed his hand and looked up at him, "You feeling okay?"

Adam nodded, "My pride is a little dented but, I'm good. Although, if you're kissing things better..."

Kris' eyebrow arched and he smirked, "Uh-huh."

Adam shrugged, "It was worth a try."

Kris leaned in close and whispered in his ear, "If you can behave yourself until after the performance, I’ll…"

Adam’s eyebrow shot up as Kris whispered filthy promises in his ear and  pulled Kris close, kissing him, "With an incentive like that, how could I refuse?"

Kris just laughed before clambering to his feet and pulling Adam up.  He looked at the speaker on the floor and the bracket on the wall.

"So, will we try this again?"

Flexing his arm, Adam nodded, "Sure... Just don't climb _into_ the speaker this time?"

Kris smiled, "Yes, dear."

Adam dragged the speaker into a clear spot on the stage to assess the damage. It was mostly okay, but some of the wires had come loose. Kris grabbed his tools and started working to fix the speaker, leaving Adam to deal with the bracket on the wall. Adam pulled the bracket free and looked at it. Junk. He looked through Kris' toolkit and found another bracket that would work. It only took a few minutes to install the replacement and it held well. Kris finished fixing the speaker and Adam hoisted it up to the bracket, holding it steady as Kris clipped it into place. Apart from a small stain along the edge, it was impossible to tell that the speaker had bounced across the stage. Kris checked the wires for a final time, hooking up the power and nodded.

"Right, let's try that."

Adam picked up the soundboard and pressed play on the test riff.  The speaker came to life, throwing out a good solid base line.  Adam turned up the volume a little and closed his eyes, analyzing the levels. 

"Sounds good," Kris said as Adam was opening his eyes.

Adam smiled, "Yeah. Think that's got it."

"Awesome," Kris smiled and leaned in against Adam, his arm resting on Adam's waist.

A cough from behind them caught their attention and they turned to see Ted standing there. He knew that moments like this were rare and looked apologetic.  Adam wasn’t happy to see him but at least Ted wouldn’t run his mouth about walking in on them.

"We got some people at the front door," Ted shrugged.  "I hate to bother you but they said you invited them?"

Kris groaned, "Ted, there are times when I really don't like you."

Ted looked genuinely apologetic as he held up his hands, "Sorry, Jay, they've been hanging out there for the past fifteen minutes and we don't open for another hour."

Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair, "Shit, it must be the band.  I told them to turn up a little early, but I didn't think they'd arrive for another hour or two."

"It's fine, I should be helping Tyler set up," Kris gestured over to the bar where the new kid who didn't even look old enough to be in a bar, much less working in one, was trying his best to stack the shelves.  Going to his tip-toes, Kris kissed Adam quickly and smiled, "Be nicer to the poor kid."

Adam pulled a look of mock hurt, but he couldn't hold it, "Word of honor, Jay. I'll keep an eye out for the kid."

Kris shook his head and grinned, "That's what I'm afraid of; you're turning his head enough already."

With a final kiss, Kris hopped down off the stage and headed behind the bar.  Adam watched him go, a little confused at his last comment.  Ted was sniggering to himself. 

"What?" Adam demanded.

"There are times, boss, when I'm surprised that you ever got laid," Ted cackled. "You really haven't noticed that the boy can't even string two words together when you're around?"

Adam shrugged and hopped down off the stage, "I haven’t been looking, I guess.  I figured that he was just shy."

"Shit, man, you’ve changed.  Since you started going steady with Jay, it’s like you stopped noticing any guy with a pulse,” Ted shook his head.

“Going steady?” Adam’s eyebrow arched, “What am I?  Twelve?”

“You should be so lucky!  But don't worry, boss," Ted grinned, "Yours isn't the only ass he watches.  He's got a bit of a crush on your boy too."

Adam looked over at the bar.  He could see the blush on Tyler's cheeks from all the way across the floor as Kris patted him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well," Adam grinned, "Can't fault his taste!"

Ted rolled his eyes and walked Adam over to the main door.  Checking the screen, Adam saw most of his band standing outside, coats wrapped around themselves to keep out the vicious wind that cut down the street.  Nodding to Ted, Adam opened the door and welcomed them in. 

"D'you build the bloody club in a wind tunnel?  It cuts right through the street and doesn't seem to stop just because you get in its way," Lisa stamped her heavy boots as she stepped inside.  "Jeez, it's cold out there.  I'm not even sure I still have all my fingers."

Adam patted her on the shoulder and waved the rest of them in before locking the door and resetting the security systems.  There was no sign of Tommy and Adam frowned. 

"Ted, there should be one more.  Short, blond and with far too much attitude for a guy his size, carrying a base guitar.  Send him over when he arrives?"

Ted nodded and perched himself on a stool to watch the monitors, and the rerun of the previous night's baseball game that Adam wasn't supposed to know about.

"Come on in, everyone."  Adam pushed open the double doors and they stepped into the club.  "Glad you could make it today.  I was talking to Case again this morning about the band and a couple of other things and well, we have a few ideas for what needs to happen next.  Let me grab a pot of coffee so you guys can warm up, or perhaps you want something a little stronger?"

Lisa looked at the fully stocked bar and whistled, "Stronger would be good.  You got any decent vodka?"

Adam smiled, "You name it, honey, we got it."

"A double shot of Goose on the rocks with a splash of lime?"

Adam nodded and turned to LP and Monte. 

"Um, just a coffee for me," Monte answered, still looking at the stage.

"I'll grab an Iced Tea," LP smirked.

"Sweet, Classic, Alaskan, Electric, Californian, Long Beach, Jersey, Pittsburg, Tennessee, Texas or just a plain Long Island?  Or do you want something special?" Adam asked innocently.

LP's jaw dropped before he caught it, "Surprise me!"

"You got it," Adam laughed, "Grab a booth and I'll be right back after I give Jay your orders."

Adam walked over to the bar, Tyler seemed to be there on his own, dragging a box of bottles across the floor.  Adam vaulted the bar easily and helped Tyler lift the heavy box up onto the counter.  Tyler blushed and Adam scruffed the kid's hair.

"You don't have to try to kill yourself during the restocking.  Those bottles for the optics are heavy.  Grab one or two at a time and bring them up like that.  You'll injure yourself if you keep dragging up entire boxes," Adam advised.

Tyler stuttered and nodded.

"Jay around?"

"He went to change for his shift," Tyler said, his voice barely rising above a whisper. 

"Okay, well, when he's back, can you get him to make us up some drinks?"  Adam asked and grabbed a piece of paper to write down the order.

Tyler nodded and Adam left him to it.  He seemed like a good kid but a little... sweet for a night club like _Idolize:NYC_.  Jay and the rest would knock the corners off the kid soon enough, or he'd leave for some minimum wage job that didn't make him blush so much.  It was just how the world worked.  Every year they got a number of college kids pulling shifts to earn living money while they studied.  Some lasted, some didn't, but they were generally hard working.  He hoped that Tyler would stay, but only time would tell. 

Adam slid into the booth beside Monte.  Ideally, he’d hoped Tommy would be here when he told them, but Lisa had a look on her face that said that she wanted. 

"So, you got a reason for cancelling the one and only day off we've had in _months_ and making us haul our asses out of bed?  I had two very cute guys ready and waiting to do things to me that you can only imagine," Lisa paused to look him up and down, "although...  Actually, _you've_ probably already done them!"

Adam smirked, neither confirming nor denying, "I was going to wait for Tommy, but... I brought you down here for two reasons.  The first was to meet my boyfriend.  He's one of the bartenders here and well, he wanted to meet you.  He's tired of listening to me talking about you all and this is a way for him to put faces to the names.  He's going to be the one making your drinks."

"Uh huh," Lisa just looked at him.  "You dragged us down here just because your partner wanted to meet us?  I can smell bullshit you know.  Finely tuned detector," she tapped her nose.  "How about you tell us the rest of it?"

"Fine.  No, that's not the only reason.  We're playing a gig tonight.  Here.  I've got stage clothes ready and waiting in the back, custom designed and ready to go."  Adam looked at Monte, "We've got a state of the art sound system here, even if one of the speakers has it in for me.  We'll do a sound check and you can set the levels.  Decide a set list between you.  We're going to be opening the doors in about an hour."

Ted waved from over by the door and Steve, one of his security guys, was on his way over looking troubled.  Adam stood, and walked towards the man.

"’Fyre," Lisa called.

"One sec," Adam held up a finger.

"Boss, we got a situation.  Got a couple of guys hassling a street kid outside.  Ted sent a couple of guys out to break it up, but the kid is putting up a fight, won't let us help him."

Adam turned back to the table, "I'll be back.  Think about a set list."

"'Fyre, we haven't even agreed to..." Lisa was working herself into a temper.

Adam was already making his way to the door.  He grabbed a jacket from Ted and one of the guns from under the security desk.  Ted pointed left and Adam nodded.  He kept his gun low as he moved, finger beside the trigger as he assessed the situation.  Three of his security guards had drawn their weapons and were trying to back the two targets away from the figure on the sidewalk who was huddled over a couple of bags, dark hoodie pulled up over his head and covering his face.  The targets dodged closer, trying to pull one of the bags free but the kid was vicious, kicking out and aiming for the delicate knee joint. 

 _Idolize:NYC_ 's security guards were hanging back, and Adam noticed that one of them was already limping.  Adam gestured towards the kid and Tez moved closer, reaching out to him.  A second later, he was screaming in pain and holding his hand.  Adam moved closer and could see a clear imprint of teeth on Tez' hand.  This wasn't working.  Adam pointed his gun at the mugger's feet and fired.  The bullet pinged off the sidewalk and everyone froze, looking at him.  The muggers' eyes widened as they recognized him and Adam couldn't hold in the vicious smile.

"Unless you want the next bullets somewhere vital, back off and get the fuck outta here," Adam aimed just a little higher, making his target obvious and the muggers backed up, turning and running.

"’Fyre?" Adam looked down at to see Tommy under the mess of hair and rumpled clothes.

"Tommy?  Jeez, what the hell?" Adam clicked on the safety and tucked the gun into his waistband.  He held a hand out to help Tommy up.  Tez scooted back a little.  "Help him with his stuff, guys.  Tez, when you get back inside, get Ted to look at your hand."

"Um, sorry," Tommy looked up at Tez, catching his lip between his teeth.

"It's okay, kid," Tez shrugged, but Adam noticed that he was keeping the other security guys between him and the smaller man.

Adam grabbed Tommy's dual guitar case and looked it over.  It looked a little scruffed up, but intact.  Between that and the two over-stuffed duffels that Tommy was carrying, Adam was getting a bad feeling. 

"So, you wanna tell me what happened?" Adam asked, voice low as the security guys walked ahead.

"They thought I was an easy mark," Tommy pushed his hair back off his face.  "They were wrong."

"Yeah, I got that,” Adam nodded, "But I was actually referring to the fact that you look to be dragging every single one of your worldly possessions down the street."

Tommy's shoulders hunched, "That's because I am.  My building got sold to a corp this morning.  We got fifteen minutes to grab what we could before the security codes changed and they forcibly evicted everyone.  I shoved what I could into my bags and left what I couldn't fit.  I was hoping that I could find a cheap storage place to stash them, but nowhere is open this early except the cheap-ass places where they toss your stuff and steal anything worth more than a couple of bucks."

"So what's your plan for tonight?" Adam asked, a little concerned.

With Glitch still living with them, every private moment was precious and adding someone else to the mix would only make it worse but there was another spare room back at their apartment.  He didn’t know enough about Tommy to be entirely comfortable with it but he wouldn't see Tommy without somewhere to stay for the night. 

"Motel, I guess.  Got a couple of bucks," Tommy shrugged.  "Bastards waited until they'd taken the rent check to toss us.  So, um, why did you want us down here?"

"Well…" Adam ran a hand through his hair, "We're doing our first live show tonight."

Tommy nodded, "Don't suppose it pays?"

Adam grinned, "We can work something out."

"Cool," Tommy grabbed his guitar case and hefted it up onto his shoulder.  "We got a set list to look at?"

"I left the guys to work on it, but Lisa wasn't happy," Adam handed the gun back to Ted and shrugged out of the jacket before opening the double doors into the club.  "She didn’t like my little surprise."

"Sweet setup," Tommy whistled.  "Don't worry about them.  They're session musicians.  They're just not comfortable with the fact that people are going to be looking at them.  Once we get past the first song, they'll loosen up."

"That's what I'm hoping," Adam admitted.

Tommy slid in beside Lisa, "So I'm thinking that we start with Gauntlet City Night and then go straight into Cordite Sparks."

"You're not..." Lisa started but Tommy just turned and looked at her.

"We gotta start somewhere, Lise, may as well start tonight.  You got stage clothes sorted, 'Fyre?" Tommy asked.

"In the back," Adam answered, lip quirking up.

"Good, now go get me a drink and we'll hammer out a set list!"

Adam chuckled as he went over to the bar.  Kris wasn't back yet, but Tyler was there and, with a little help, was making up the order.  Janice was watching over him and nodding as he mixed the cocktails.  Adam looked at the cocktail list and ordered Tommy a mojito.

"I'm not wearing this, 'Fyre, and you can't make me!" Lisa thumped into Adam's dressing room holding out the leather and lace dress that Drey had created for her.

He hadn’t even had five minutes to himself.  Adam sighed and put down his PADD, closing down the security program before Lisa could see it.  He'd been monitoring the floor, watching the Mercy delegation.  They’d just arrived, surrounded by handlers, and Adam had been trying to see if he could pick David out of the crowd.

"Okay, Lisa, what's wrong?"

"It's …it’s indecent!  You can see through it!"

Adam took the dress, holding it up to the light.  It looked flimsy and transparent, but it was a latticework of lace and leather cut together in such a way that nothing but the tiniest slivers of skin showed through, tantalizing sneak peeks and nothing more.  It was a masterpiece of fashion and Adam owed Drey a mountain of coffee for pulling this off on such short notice.

"It only looks that way," Adam started.

"Nuh-huh, I'm not wearing it.  I got my denims and a shirt and my boots, those will work well enough for tonight and then you can... I don't know but you can talk to whoever designed that and tell them that it needs more, more, more.... Everything!" Adam just barely caught her on her way out the door.

"Okay, we both know that it’s not the dress, Lisa, so you want to talk about what’s really bugging you?" Adam leaned back against his dresser, looking at her. 

She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"You've been angry with me since I announced that we were doing a show tonight.  If you've got a problem with the performance, tell me now," Adam glared right back at her. "You were my first choice for keyboards, Lisa.  I didn't just see a natural musician when you walked in, I saw a performer.  You rushed in wearing that awful bridesmaid's dress and blew me away with what you played.  You had attitude, you had ability and you rocked those biker boots... Hell, you rocked that pink monstrosity!  But if you can't do the shows..." he sighed.  "I don't want to lose you, so tell me what's wrong."

She muttered something and Adam had to have her repeat it.

"I don't like stages.  I always feel sick when I have to..." she trailed off, not looking at Adam.

"That's okay, Lisa," Adam soothed. "My first time out, I got like two minutes warning and then Firecracker was pushing me out on stage.  I sucked!  I was terrible.  I couldn't move.  I couldn't even breathe.  I got so many boo's during that first song that I never wanted to do it again, but I wasn't going to let them win and then, it clicked!  I still feel the nerves when I go on stage.  There's a hundred people out there, probably more, that want me to fail, but I won't give them the satisfaction."

Lisa was frowning, arms folded and she wasn’t looking at him.  He wasn’t getting through to her.  Adam changed tack.  “Why do you play music?  Why do you spend hours every day standing behind your keyboard?"

"It's my job," she shrugged.

"Yeah, okay," Adam didn't believe her.  "So, quit and find a job in a store, or in an office.  You can sit behind a computer and play a different set of boards every day.  Do you want to do that?"

She shook her head.

"So why do you play music?" Adam repeated.

"Because..." she chewed the inside of her cheek.

"Because you love music," Adam finished.  Lisa blinked, arms loosening.  "I know. I can hear it every time you play. You play because you can't do anything else.  Music is your life, Lisa, and you need to share that with the world.  I swear, once you get past the first bout of nerves, you'll get that adrenaline kick.  There’s nothing like it in the world.  You're going to want to keep going and going and going and never want to leave the stage.  I know because that's how I feel and that's how everyone else in the band feels.  Tommy and Monte were born to rock their guitars.  LP may as well have been born with sticks in his hands.  That's what I saw in you guys during your auditions.  That’s why I fought for you guys. I didn't want someone who would just fill a dress, or just look pretty when the spotlight hit them, I wanted someone who had music in their souls and that's what I got."

Lisa looked at him, her head tilted slightly as she watched him.  Eventually she smiled. 

"So we're not pretty?"

Adam opened his mouth to answer and snapped it closed again, trying to think of a way to get himself out of trouble.

"You're not just pretty, that's what I meant," Adam back-pedaled.  "Try the dress?  Please?  See how it fits.  If you don't like it, I'll find you something else to wear, but you'll look sensational.  I guarantee it.  You're going to rock the stage tonight and afterwards, you'll be given so many phone numbers that you could start your own directory.  You're amazing, Lisa, and I really want you to be a part of this journey with me."

She considered for a moment and finally nodded, "Alright.  I'll try.  But you owe me for this.  And I'm still not sure about the dress."

"Well, you can keep your denims, if you really want, but that’s a Dorsett Gibson original."

Lisa’s eyes bugged out and she stared down at the dress with her jaw hanging.

"I'll see if I can talk Jay into making you some absolutely fabulous cocktails for you, too," Adam wheedled.  "That work?"

"Yeah, that works," she laughed and then paused, looking up at him, "About Jay... about your boyfriend, well...  He seems nice.  A little shy, I guess, but not what we imagined.  I mean, I'm sure he's great, but um...  He's not what we pictured when you described him."

"Yeah," Adam smiled, softly, "He's pretty special.  He was a data runner back in San D, but he's been helping out here since we moved."

"Oh," Lisa nodded.  "That explains it.  We kinda figured that whoever you were going out with would be a little more..."

"Glitz and glam?" Adam provided and Lisa nodded.

"Yeah, I guess.  Confident, maybe?  He seems a little quiet.  Nice but quiet, you know?" Lisa shrugged.

"He's one of a kind."

She stepped back, her hand on the door, "I should go.  I need to change."

Adam needed to change too but his gaze fell on the PADD again and he picked it up, switching through the cameras until he saw the Mercy group.  There were a few kids about the right age, any of them could be David, he supposed.  Then one of the kids turned, laughing and Adam could have been looking straight at Neil.  He dropped the PADD on the vanity, hands shaking. 

This had been a stupid idea.  This had been such a fucking stupid idea.  What could he say to the kid?  How did you start a conversation like that anyway? 

 _"Hey kid, guess what, your dad cheated on my mom and bang, nine months later you came along?"_   No.

 _"So, your dad's been lying to you all these years, how does that make you feel?"_     No.

 _"Did you know you had a whole other family back in San D?"_   No.

 _"So you wanna be a merc?"_    No.

" _By the way, those guys you think hung the moon, yeah, they just want you for the parts..."_    No. No. No.

There was no way to do this that wasn't going to have David diving for the door or his gun or both.  What the hell did he think he was doing?  Maybe he could just ask Kris to do something? 

A knock interrupted him mid-freak-out and Allison reminded him that he only had fifteen minutes before the curtain rose.  At least this part was easy. Adam pulled his new stage clothes off their hangers and started getting ready.  Drey had pulled out all the stops.  Leather pants, heavy on the buckles and chains and a t-shirt that fitted like a second skin.  On top of that, there was a jacket with an asymmetric zip and chrome accents.  Finally, a new pair of kick-ass boots completed the merc/rockstar look and Adam smirked at himself in the mirror.  A quick touchup to his makeup and he was ready.  He looked over at the PADD again and shook his head.  Too late for second thoughts now. It was showtime.

Tommy was waiting for him, looking fierce in his new stage clothes, his bass hooked around his shoulder, its black surface glittering under the lights.  

"You ready?" Tommy asked.

"Are you?"

"Lisa passed on your little pep-talk," Tommy brushed his hair back out of his face.  "We're ready as long as you are.  News broke about half an hour ago.  I peeked.  We've got a full house.  You good with that?"

"No point singing to an empty room," Adam straightened his shoulders and smirked.  "Let's get up there and introduce ourselves."

Tommy swept his arm out and Adam walked past him, taking a handheld mike from one of the stage hands.  The lights found him straight away and Adam relaxed as the cheers started.  This was his crowd, here to see him.

" _IDOLIZE:NYC_ IS GONNA ROCK TONIGHT!" Adam's voice echoed over the cheers of the crowd.  "You ready to hear something special?  I got a few friends here with me and we thought we might share a couple of songs with you, rock out a little."  The crowd went wild, screaming loud enough that Adam took a step back.    "I dunno.  I didn't quite hear that."  The crowd screamed louder and Adam laughed.  "Alright, alright, let me introduce the guys who've been working with me for the past few weeks, helping me lay down some tracks.  This is their first time on stage with me, but I know you're going to treat them right, aren't you?  Put your hands together, scream and shout and let me introduce Lisa, looking gorgeous as always, Monte, LP and Tommy!"

One by one, they stepped up, Lisa waving shyly and Monte and LP nodding curtly to the crowd. Tommy stepped into the light and hit a riff; the opening riff of Gauntlet City Night. The crowd went wild! The others picked up the tune and they launched straight into it. Adam started to sing. The crowd clapped and cheered as they played. There were a few missteps but no one noticed and they sailed through the set list, doing encores and requests until Adam finally called time and led his band off the stage.

Tyler was standing at the edge of the stage, with a honeyed tea for Adam.  Adam smiled and took the drink.  Tyler stood on his tiptoes and kissed Adam on the cheek, blushing as he did.  Adam only picked up the super-quiet 'From Jay' thanks to his enhanced audio filters and smiled.  Adam kissed Tyler on the cheek and whispered, 'For Jay' as his lips passed the kid's ear, and then winked.  Tyler flushed bright red and disappeared off at speeds that shouldn't have been possible without wheels and a dual V-8 engine. 

He saw Lisa and Tommy watching him.  He smiled, "Jay spoils me.  Gimme a second.  There's one more thing I have to do before I can do the meet and greet.  Wait for me?"

They nodded and Adam walked onto the stage again.  The crowd cheered and Adam held out his hands for silence. 

"We got one last treat for you lucky people! Because _Idolize:NYC_ is my home stage and because you guys turned out on short notice, we decided - that is to say, Firecracker decided and twisted my arm until I said yes - that one of you guys would get a chance to do a meet and greet with the band tonight."  The crowd went wild again and Adam smiled.  "So if you pull out your tickets, and if Firecracker hurries herself up onto the stage, we'll do the draw."

Allison stepped onto the stage, holding a PADD and mock-glaring at him.  Adam smiled and welcomed her up.  With a tap of the PADD, Allison held it up over her head as the virtual dials spun.  It settled onto a single number and Adam could hear the whoop of joy.  He couldn't see any details but he looked out over the crowd with his best performer’s smile. 

"Congrats!  Don't forget to go to the bar and grab your free drink.  The band will be out to do a general meet and greet in a minute and then we'll take you backstage."

Adam's stomach tightened but his smile remained firmly fixed in place.  A few minutes.  That was all he had until...  He took a deep breath, and stepped off the stage.

"You never told us you were doing a raffle," Monte was the first to speak.  "What are we going to do with them?"

"Don't worry about it," Adam reassured him.  "I've got it.  Congrats on tonight.  You guys rocked it."

"I hit a couple of bum notes in the middle of Gauntlet," Monte frowned.  "Lost the time on a couple of others."

Adam rolled his eyes, "Just take the compliment, Monte.  You guys rocked.  The crowd loved it."

He walked them through the back and out onto the floor.  They were mobbed quickly and Adam laughed. 

"Welcome to life as a rock star!"

Tommy stuck his tongue out at him and signed the arm of a college kid.  Ted tapped him on the shoulder and Adam turned to see David peering past the wall of security.  His breath stuttered and Adam struggled to keep the smile on his face.  He could see Neil in David’s wide eyes and brilliant smile and felt an ache in his chest.

"Hey kid, I'm Silverfyre," Adam shook his hand.

"David Lambert.  Um, I mean, Hazzard!  That's my street name."

Hazzard?   Well, that answered the question of whether or not the kid had spent _any_ time on the street.  Adam resisted the urge to groan and led the kid backstage and to his dressing room.  This wasn’t the time to discuss unfortunate street names.  The kid's eyes were wide as he looked around the room.  Adam had customized it a little over the months and most of his stage clothes lived on the racks against the wall.   He watched David, trying to judge his reaction.

"This is so awesome.  My friends and I have been listening to your bootleg stuff since your name hit TheBuZZ," he paused.  "We figured that you wouldn't mind that we got the bootlegs given that you used to be a merc and everything.  We're totally going to buy your single when it comes out but until then, you know?"

Adam smiled and waved away the kid's concerns, "I don't mind.  Have a seat."

David sat, perched on the edge of the seat, ready to bounce up at a moment's notice.  Adam pulled up a chair and sat opposite him.  David watched him eagerly and Adam felt ancient just being in the same room as this …this _kid_.

"So, um, is this where you seduce me?  Cause I'm not sure I go that way but well, there's this guy I'm training with and he's kinda hot I suppose and he propositioned me yesterday but I'm totally not sure if I should try it with him but I guess it would be okay if it was you cause I mean you're mega hot and famous and stuff and everyone knows you're, like, out there and gay and everything and that's kinda cool and you're not too old but you're the hot kinda old not the creepy kinda old so if you want to I guess it would be okay but my handler can't find out because we don't get our medical until next week and we're not supposed to do anything stupid until thing but I don't know if this would count as stupid.  Do you do this very often?"

Adam blinked and leaned back sharply.

"No.  What?  No!  Jeez, kid, take a breath.  No.  I'm not going to...  Jeez!" Adam ran a hand through his hair, scrubbing through it as he tried to work his way through what David had said.  "No.  No seducing you.  That would just be...  No."

"Oh," David looked to be caught between disappointment and relief and Adam shook his head.

"No.  I'm...  I'm your brother, Adam!"

"Oh."

\--

So that conversation could have gone better, Adam thought ruefully, but it hadn’t been a total disaster. They'd talked for a little while, mostly about family. Eber hadn't told his new family about his life in San D. David had taken the news pretty well, after his initial skepticism, but then Mercy's handlers had ended the meeting before they’d had a chance to really get to know each other. Adam had promised that they'd meet up again soon and David had smiled over his shoulder as his handler led him out into the night, the other kids following on behind.

Adam rubbed his face and sighed.  David was naive as hell and so young - Adam had never been that fucking young - he wouldn't last a minute on the streets of San D.  David might be safe in NYC where the mercs were practically law-abiding citizens but Adam couldn’t take the chance.  He needed to make Mercy understand that he would burn them to the fucking ground if they let David get hurt. 

Adam stuffed all the dread and resolve under the glossy Silverfyre mask as he worked his way out onto the main floor. The band were sitting at the same booth and Adam made his way over to them, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. The band were buzzing and giddy.

"I can't believe you signed that!" Monte was saying.  "I mean..."

"Why wouldn't I?" Lisa smirked, "She's the one that pulled up her top!  I mean, okay, she's not exactly on the same scale as the hottie in those tight pants behind the bar - you know the one with the ass? - but she slipped me her number and I gotta admit that I'm tempted.  Especially after I got a look at her..."

"Lisa!" Monte looked shocked.  "I thought you were, you know, you had your boys."

"I do," Lisa beamed, "and I wouldn't dream of not telling them, but as long as they got to watch..."

Lisa nudged Monte in the side, smiling, "You've got to loosen up, honey."

Monte flushed but said nothing, hunching his shoulders a little and looking down at the table.  Adam smiled when Lisa looked his way, but his mind was back still in the dressing room, replaying the conversation with his brother over and over.

He jumped as a drink was put down beside him and he looked up into Tyler's open face.  The kid was looking down at him, concerned, and Adam smiled.  The cocktail was an _Idolize:NYC_ original, a mix of _Silberschläger_ , Vodka and assorted energizer drinks that Kris had called the _Silverfire_. 

The name had turned into an ongoing joke and there were factions within _Idolize:NYC_ who changed the i for a y whenever Kris' back was turned.  Adam loved the quick flash of cinnamon burn and the slower fizz of the nanite-enriched energizer drink.  His body flashed warm as the nanites dissipated and then there was a moment of lightheadedness before the alcohol kicked hard.  It was a merc-only drink and came with a warning. 

"Thanks, hon," Adam patted the kid on the arm.

"No problem," Tyler stammered before turning to the rest of the table.  "Anyone else need a drink?"

"I want something fantastic, something with tequila.  How about a sunrise?" Tommy asked and Tyler nodded, biting his lip a little harder.

"I'll just have a coffee, tall, two shots?" Monte asked.

"I'm done with the cocktails," LP admitted, pushing his empty high ball glass away, "Just a beer is good."

"Pink, shiny and heavy on the kick," Lisa smiled.  "I'm sure your bartender can work with that.  Oh, and if he has to reach for the top shelf, all the better!"

"Okay," Tyler’s lips moved and he closed his eyes, "So that's a tequila sunrise, a tall coffee with a double shot, a beer and something pink, shiny and from the top shelf."

"Uh huh," Lisa confirmed.  "The higher the better."

Adam could see Janice laughing and flirting with the customers.  He didn't think she was wearing her leather pants tonight but...  Adam shrugged.  If Lisa was interested, Janice was single again and she'd probably be down for a wild night.

Tyler coughed a little, and shifted from foot to foot, "'F-fyre?"

"Yeah?" Adam forced a smile and looked at the kid.

"You need anything?"

"No, I'm good.  Thanks," Adam's turned to face the younger man.  He was looking a little harried, tired and Adam reached out to pat the kid's arm.  "How was your night? You make some tips?"

Tyler nodded, "Yeah, um, it's ...been an experience?"

"Anyone give you hassle?"

"No, security have been hovering.  I should..." he pointed to the bar and Adam nodded.  "Be right back!"

It was a hell of a night to make your _Idolize:NYC_ debut, Adam had to admit; an entire concert leaked on TheBuZZ, the club packed to the rafters and everyone busting their ass.  Adam was protective - over protective, some might say - but _Idolize_ people were his people, try as he might, he couldn't stop caring.  The band drummed along to a classic track that the DJ spun, singing along, but Adam wasn't listening.  He was thinking about Mercy again, and David, and Eber, and cursing himself.  

Tyler reappeared, carrying over a tray, Glitch beside him holding something pink and with sparklers burning down. 

"Okay, so who had what?" Glitch asked and Adam rattled off the list before Tyler could open his mouth.

Tyler looked a little confused, distracted and looking over his shoulder.  Adam reached out and tapped him.

"You okay?"

Tyler nodded but looked over his shoulder again and Adam looked behind him to where a group of college girls were giggling and looking over.  Adam smiled and shook his head as Tyler went red.

Glitch met Adam's eye and smirked at the kid before turning back to the table, "That everyone?"

Adam looked around, cataloguing the drinks and nodded, "Yeah, that looks about right.  Thanks guys."

Glitch handed Tyler the tray and looked over at the bar.  Some of security were sitting down, taking the weight off their feet as the others urged the last of the patrons to finish their drinks. 

"Think I'm done for the night."

Adam kicked out a chair, "You wanna grab a drink and join us?"

Glitch shrugged, "Sure. Saves me having to write the ad for a while."

Adam frowned, "Ad?"

Adam heard a whistle from the direction of the bar and Tyler disappeared.  Glitch looked at him before rolling his eyes, "...Jay didn't talk to you about the apartment thing?"

Adam held back the glare, "He told me that you were moving across the hall, but he didn't tell me about any ads. What do you need?"

"A roommate."

Tommy spoke up before Adam had a chance to say anything, "Is it a rat-trap? Does it have a decent shower? And is 'roommate' code for I need someone with two kidneys to sell on the black market to feed my porn addiction?"

Glitch turned to look at him, "No, no and given that that's your fifth drink, I don't think I'd get much for them."  He turned back to Adam and gave a jerk of his shoulder, "Another fanboy?"

Adam smirked, "Nope. My bassist. He's temporarily homeless."

Tommy shrugged, "Corp buyout this morning."

"Shit, man, that sucks!"

"I have two bags, two guitars and the contents of my wallet," he shrugged again, "If you're still looking in a month, let me know. I should have enough for a decent deposit then."

Glitch tapped on his bracer.  Adam wondered if Glitch would turn up the same information that Hijack's Little Helpers would.  Glitch wasn't quite as sneaky as Kris, but it was a close run thing and anyone who hadn't seen a DEx runner at work would be easily forgiven for thinking that Glitch was simply considering Tommy's words.  Adam knew better.  He was assessing whatever information his AI's had pulled up and weighing it against the associated risks.

Eventually, Glitch answered, "I'm not worried about the money, dude but I guess if Big Bad and Sparkly here vouches for you...?"

Tommy and Glitch both looked at Adam.  Adam drew it out, tilting his head to one side as he considered Tommy.  Tommy's eyes widened pleadingly and he opened his mouth but Adam was already nodding.

"He's mouthy and vicious... Should be a perfect match."

"Well, if you'd rather I stayed in your spare room for another month....?" Glitch sat back in his chair and smirked, "I mean, your boyfriend was looking forward to privacy and all..."

"No, God, no," Adam shook his head dramatically.  "Take my bassist. With my blessing!"

Glitch stage-whispered to Tommy, loud enough that half the damned floor of _Idolize:NYC_ could probably hear, "Someone wants to get laid."

"Yes. Yes, I do!"  Adam said immediately.

Glitch just laughed at him and Tyler appeared again.  He had a drink for Glitch and a fresh drink for Adam.  It was a sweeter drink this time, and one that Adam didn't recognize.  It was another of Kris’ original drinks.  It was a late night drink; one that Kris sent him when Adam was getting close to an edge.  Adam luxuriated in the warm afterglow that it left behind.

"You are a godsend," Adam told Tyler after he opened his eyes again.

Tyler blushed bright red and stammered something that Adam couldn't pick up.

"You almost done for the night?"

Tyler smiled, wide and completely genuine, "Yeah, just a few more minutes. I am so looking forward to getting home tonight."

"Make sure that Ted organizes a lift for you," Adam ordered and Tyler nodded hastily.

There was a choked sound and Adam turned to look at Lisa.  She looked to Monte and then back at Adam before holding up her hands and sitting back in her seat.  Adam frowned.  She looked annoyed and Adam had no clue why.  She opened her mouth again but snapped it closed, settling for a glare instead.

"You okay?" It was Glitch who asked the question.

"Yes." Lisa's voice was tight and Adam suspected that she had her teeth clenched.  "Yes, just... I expected better."

"Better? Better than what?" Glitch asked.

Tyler was inching behind Adam and Adam braced to cover the kid.  He didn't know what the hell was up with Lisa but he wasn't about to let her loose on Tyler.  One solid hit and the kid would break.

Lisa pointed a finger at him, and Adam wished that he was wearing his guns because the way that Lisa’s expression was downright vicious.

"He...  He spends every spare minute talking about how special his boyfriend is and then he can’t even get off his lazy ass to bring him home himself."  She turned to Adam and started to rise, "I expected better of you. Jeez, is it an act? Is anything you said true? Or were you just trying to make sure that we didn't ruin your show?"

Adam backed his chair up and reached out to push Tyler further behind him.  He frowned.  What had Kris to do with this? 

Glitch blinked, and looked between Lisa and Adam and then started laughing, deep, hysterical laughs that had him almost falling out of his chair.  Adam glared at him, reaching out to catch his head before he banged it off the table. 

"Am I missing something here?" Adam asked, "or have you both lost your fucking minds?"

"Watch it, Glitch," Kris’ voice came from behind Tyler and Adam was so fucking glad to see him.  "Gee'll murder you if you break something before the shoot."  Kris stretched and flopped into Adam's lap, "God, I'm beat."

Adam saw what Kris was wearing and his brain stalled out right there.  Tight, _tight_ black leather pants with cut-out details up along the legs that revealed Kris' strong thighs to the world and a painted on light armored black t-shirt with details that tagged it as a Dorsett Gibson original.  Chains hung from the belt and Adam's fingers itched to trace down the exposed skin.  From here, he could see the ghost outline of Kris' nipple rings and Adam's mouth went dry.  How had he not seen Kris in this before now?  Kris leaned back against him and arched his neck, stretching this way and that, and Adam caught his hips, leaning in to kiss Kris.

"Ahem!"

Adam didn't know who coughed, but he broke the kiss reluctantly.  It took a minute for him to catch his breath and he couldn’t look away from his deliciously rumpled boyfriend, "Guys, let me introduce you to my boyfriend. Jay, this is the band."

"Hey guys."

Silence echoed around the table and Glitch started laughing again.  Adam glared at him.

LP cut in before he could say a word, gesturing at Tyler, "But after the show, you and him and the kiss and..."

Adam looked over at Tyler then back at Kris.  There was a slight resemblance, he supposed, if he squinted.  Kris was giggling against his chest and Glitch was actually choking on laughter.  Adam stared at his band then back at his boyfriend, temporarily mute. Tyler was answered, "Juh-Jay couldn't get away from the bar and there was a creep and-"

"And you look dead on your feet," Kris shook his head before Lisa could open her mouth,  "Ted's got you a taxi.  Go on, go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Adam kissed Kris’ neck and Kris shivered.  Smirking, Adam waved with the arm not around Kris' waist, "Night kid. Get some sleep."

Blushing so hard that Adam was half-afraid he was going to pass out, Tyler waved and bolted and the whole table collapsed laughing.

"You're the hottie from the bar. The flair guy..." Lisa said abruptly, leaning over the table to point at Kris.

Kris hid his face against Adam's neck, "Oh god."

"Can't blame her for thinking that, babe," Adam kissed the top of his head, hands  curling possessively against Kris’ thigh.  "You are looking especially hot tonight. Love the new clothes. Especially the trousers... if Drey took away any more, I'd have to shoot everyone in the bar!"

Adam ran his fingers over the gaps in the leather, teasing as his nails brushed the sensitive skin.  Kris shivered in his lap and Adam held him tight.  Kris leaned back into Adam's chest and groaned as Adam hit a particularly sensitive spot.

 "He was freaking out over the photos thing and I wanted to see what he'd come up with."

"I like!"

Kris rolled his hips and Adam had to suck in a breath. 

"I can tell."

Adam bit down on the tendon at the side of Kris' neck before nuzzling behind his ear.  Kris shivered again and Adam blew lightly over the spot making Kris arch his neck more.  Kris turned his head abruptly and kissed Adam hard and deep and Adam pulled back, keeping his kisses teasingly light before nipping at Kris' bottom lip.

"And that is why I'm moving out," Glitch announced loudly.

"Good choice," Tommy replied.  "Are they like that all the time?"

"Yuuuuuuuup," Glitch drew out the word and Adam felt a momentary urge to throw something at him, but then Kris shifted and Adam's attention refocused.

"Wow!" Tommy sounded shocked and awed at the same time.

Adam's fingers found their way under the leather as the other hand played with the chain detail belt that Kris wore, looping the chain around his hand in an attempt to keep Kris close.  They'd been going out months and Kris still left him feeling like a horny teenager.  The adrenaline of the show, the performance, the worry about meeting David and the semi-relief afterwards; nothing compared to having Kris pliable and needy in his lap.

"So, hello, strange people!" Glitch's voice sounded far away.  Adam realized that he’d forgotten to make introductions but he didn't care. 

He pulled back seconds, minutes, hours later, panting and leaned his head against Kris' forehead, "So, um... Wanna get out of here?"

Kris smiled and kissed his again, quick and soft, "Thought you'd never ask."

Adam helped him to stand, his hand still caught in the chains of Kris' belt.  He led Kris away, pausing only as Kris turned to wave to the band, "Um, bye.  You guys rocked it tonight."

Adam didn't look back, just called over his shoulder, "See you all tomorrow, afternoon. Late afternoon."


	11. Chapter 11

"I really appreciate this," Kris said as they took the corner just ahead of a ten-wheel FedMail-ATV.  The streets were choked with trucks from what looked like every corp in the city trying to finish the Monday morning delivery.  It was ten and any other day, the traffic would be mostly gone or at least back down to manageable levels.

"Not a problem," Cale’s voice came loud and clear over the earbud and he turned just enough to grin as they veered through the lanes.  A cab's brakes screeched just behind them and someone laid on the horn.  "I wouldn't leave you hanging."

Kris laughed, curling closer as the bike sped up and leaning easily into the curve.  He'd always loved riding and he'd spent years riding pillion behind Cale.  It was practically his childhood home and Cale had been the one to teach him to ride along the dusty roads on their way to San D.  Up to six years ago, Kris had had a pale patch of skin in the shape of the microphone-tag.  It felt good to wear one again.  After Nakamura had handed him the final diagnosis and Kris had been told that he was never going to be safe driving, he'd gotten used to NYC's often insane public transit but he missed riding.  He also missed riding with Adam but rockstars were busy people.

Cale got them on a freeway, heading west and settled into a comfortable eighty miles per hour.  Kris watched the landscape flying past and smiled.

"Something funny?" Cale called back and Kris laughed.

"Enjoying the ride, that's all."

"Been a while," Cale slowed as they came up behind one of the huge convoy trucks. 

"Yeah," Kris hid his face against Cale's back as they passed the exhaust and breathed in the cleaner air a second later.  "Do I lose manly points if I say that I've missed it?"

"Nah," Cale laughed and Kris smiled.  "Missed you too, little brother."

Kris poked him in the back.  "Dick.  You're the one who's always busy."

"I know," Cale said.  "Thanks for the loan by the way."

"That wasn't a loan," Kris poked him again and Cale swerved, just enough that Kris could see the asphalt under his knee and his stomach swooped as they straightened up.  "That was _part_ of your share from the Trojan job."

"Uh-huh," Cale snorted.  "I didn't do anything that needed paying for and your boy wouldn't be happy to hear you're squandering money like this."

Kris bit back the first four things he wanted to say.  Cale was all southern charm and easy-going smile until he got his heels dug in.  Then not even heavy ordinance would move him.  Kris hadn't actually talked to Adam about it but he was fairly sure Adam would consider keeping Kris alive after the job as worth paying for.  "I can guarantee that 'Fyre will agree with me if you ask him."

"I just wish I didn't need the handout," Cale said after a minute with just the wind rushing by and the faint sound of engines passing on the far side of the divide.  "I swear, I'm so close to just giving up on the whole damn idea."

"You aren't ready to be a kept man," Kris said.  Cale laughed.  "Not that I think Firecracker would object."

"I don't know, she's a classy lady," Cale said, ducking his head and it was Kris' turn to laugh. 

"Like she'd object," Kris still wasn't entirely comfortable with Firecracker but he at least thought they were getting there.  Even if they hadn't been, Kris had never doubted Firecracker's investment in Cale.  "But you'd hate it."

"Can't get anything past you," Cale wasn't bitter and Kris shrugged.

"You knew that before we moved to San D," Kris said simply.  "But I'm happy for you as long as you're happy, you know that too."

"Yeah," Cale was smiling, Kris could hear it in the way his accent thickened and the vowels rolled off his tongue.  "Who'd thought it, you and me as near as never mind to being hitched and living in New York?"

Kris rubbed his thumb over the silver tattoo on his ring finger and Cale patted his hand.  Kris smiled against his back.  "Drew's going to laugh his ass off at us both."

"I was tryin' not to think of that," Cale admitted.  "But we're not back 'til the wedding unless you and your little friends know more than you're saying?"

"No," Kris admitted.  He hated not knowing but after a failed attempt by some friend of Adam's to take him out, Crusader had vanished again.  SYS had kept tabs on the whole operation and the clean-up; the whole team had been hospitalized and Crusader disappeared.  SYS was starting to take it personally.  Kris couldn't figure out how the guy had done it.  DEx had torn through every trace of the bastard's history and there was _nothing_ to indicate he was anything but the dickhead street punk Kris remembered.  "Nothing new."

"You mean you guys aren't Good God Almighty?" Cale teased.  "Well, that's my mind blown."

"I feel so sorry for your girlfriend," Kris deadpanned.

"Isn't a damn thing wrong with that side of things," Cale elbowed him lightly.  "And unless you wanna walk the rest of the way, you might wanna lay off."

"I don't want to talk about your sex life!"  Kris protested.  "If we're going to talk about your sex life, I'll just get off right now."

"Yeah, don't do that," Cale slowed.  "I don't want your boy shooting me.  After you help me find a wedding present, then you can go play in traffic."

"Feeling loved here," Kris poked him again.  "I'mma send Drew and Jess a lump of coal and say it's from you."

"That's Christmas," Cale argued and they bickered for most of the rest of the journey.  It was a gorgeous day, sunny and almost warm under the crisp spring air.  There was hardly any real traffic, mostly SUVs and the big trucks that thundered along the freeway at a steady seventy-five miles per hour.  It was ...nice.

There were fields of green crops and really, everything was so green.  Kris had spent months surrounded by the grey, chrome and glass of NYC and the vivid colors took his breath away.  The network connection in the bottom of Kris' field of vision was amber, dipping into red and that, yeah, that was a little freaky.  Kris hadn't spent more than few hours outside full network connectivity since he'd gotten his plugs installed and it was making him twitchy.  Cale seemed to pick up on Kris' twitching and sped up.

The set for Dorsett Gibson's first editorial shoot was about an hour outside NYC; Kris had seen the preliminary shots of the location and it helped when the directions that they'd been given turned out to lead to a field full of mildly puzzled cows.  The actual location was an abandoned agri-processing factory that was slowly being reclaimed by the forest around it. 

Glitch was waiting by the gate, practically dancing with nervous energy and he started waving as soon as he caught sight of them.  Glitch had gotten a ride out with Gee and Drey which mean he'd been up for hours.  God only knew how much caffeine he'd had since then.  Cale pulled up just inside the gate and Glitch tackled Kris off the bike.

"Good morning! I thought you were never going to get here!  The photographer hasn't arrived yet - only his assistants and Gee's being all grumpy face about it!  They brought like, a whole truck of lighting stuff and this really big coffee machine and-and-!"

"And _breathe_ ," Kris poked Glitch just under the ribs and he sucked in a surprised breath.  "Holy cow, how much coffee did they give you?"

"Too much," Gee rumbled and Kris jumped.  No-one that big should be able to move that quietly.  "Good to see you, Jay, Kickstand."

Cale nodded back and turned to Kris.  "You have your phone?"

"Yup."

"Wallet?"

"Yes."

"Med-E-Vac card?"

Kris patted his pockets and pulled out the slim white card with the red medical stamp.  As his thumb brushed the circuit, the network monitor flashed green.  "Got it and I remembered my keys and my bag and my underpants."

"Good," Cale said with a straight face and turned to Gee.  "If he needs a ride after you're done, you have my number?"

Gee nodded.

"I'm right here!"  Kris objected and Glitch cuddled up against his side.  "Stop talking about me like I'm a kid!"

Cale cleared his throat and held out Kris' bag.  Kris snatched it and Cale hugged him.  Kris poked him then hugged him back.  Stupid big brothers.

"A'right," Cale swung his leg back over the bike which purred to life under him.  "I gotta get back.  You boys have fun."

"Absolutely," Gee said and Kris stared up at him.  Was that a smile?  Cale laughed and turned away, engine revving to a roar.  Gee looked down at them and folded his arms.  Kris rolled his eyes and turned to Glitch.

"So, where do they need us?"

It took two hours to get ready;  there was make-up artists, hairdressers and an army of technicians and production assistants swarming around and shouting at each other over the mini-network of phone splices.  Kris and Glitch were ignored when they weren't needed and a lot of the two hours was spent sitting in the shade of the catering trailer, playing Hack on their wrist-comps.

The photographer - some inhumanly perfect androgynous creature with interface plugs circling hir wrists like an ugly bracelet - arrived sometime between Kris being lectured on the importance of exfoliation and Glitch getting his hair completely detangled.  It was longer than Kris had thought, nearly to his shoulders and Glitch looked every bit as surprised as Kris.  It was clipped shorter and the sides shaved back.  Glitch was left with fuzzy stubble and Kris rubbed at it until his own hairdresser threatened to shave his head if he didn't stay still.

By the time they were dressed in the first of the dozen outfits and sitting with their backs against the trailer, the cameras had arrived.  The photographer was flitting back and forth, checking lenses and peripherals.  Gee was a brooding presence on the edge of set as the photographer and light technicians argued about angles and shadows.  Drey was zooming around the wardrobe trailer with a pair of scissors in his hand and a crazed look in his eyes.

"It's like we don't matter at all," Kris observed as another hapless technician was sent running for the trucks.

"Yeah," Glitch was drumming his fingers on his leg.  "I'm okay with that.  It's going to be worse when they are paying attention."

"Hey," Kris caught his shoulder.  "You can do this, okay?  Gee wouldn't have asked if he wasn't sure."

Glitch snorted but a little of the tension left his shoulders and he slouched against Kris' shoulder.  The medic - a nice lady called Yvonne who reminded Kris of Momma Jackson in her calm confidence - came over to check they weren't getting dehydrated and talk for a bit.  Glitch burnt off a lot of his nervous energy in excited babble and Kris sent Adam a text message.

" _Don't know why they need us - two hours and not one photo._ "

Adam should have been in the studio but Kris' phone buzzed a second later.  " _DON'T WORRY.  YOU'LL KNOCK THEM DEAD. CALL ME AS SOON AS YOU GET DONE. <3_"

Kris smiled down at his phone.  Adam was pretty tech savvy for a merc but still, his texts were always capitalized.  It had been a problem when Adam started communicating with the suite, or as he called them when he thought Kris couldn’t hear him ‘ the little helpers’.  The suite had been baffled - Kris used capitalized words to emphasize high priority - but quickly adapted to Adam's ways.  One of these days, Kris was going to tell him how switch Caps Lock off.

"Guys," Gee called and Kris looked up.  "They're ready for you."

Kris swallowed and Glitch bumped his shoulder as they stood up and crossed over to the set.  Gee held out a hand for their phones and Kris swallowed again.  His throat felt tight as all those eyes turned to him and the photographer shouted for quiet.  The lights were glaring, hotter than the sunlight and Kris' mouth was dry as the photographer began to plug in the various leads.  Kris closed his eyes, breathing in, and tried to remember how it had felt to have Adam guide him through the pictures and breathed out.  He could do this.  He could do this.

The lights flashed and Kris lifted his chin.  Being photographed was only nerve-wracking for the first half an hour and then it got boring.  The photographer kept changing hir mind, ordering them one way, then the other and barking orders and insults and compliments in the same curt tone.  Kris very deliberately ignored everyone but the photographer and Glitch, sweaty and real, beside him.

The click and flash of the lights started to slow and finally, the photographer snapped one last shot;  Glitch's arms braced against Kris' shoulder, leaning into him as they both stared at the camera.  "Okay, beautiful. We'll call it there and try with the second wardrobe after lunch."

The lights snapped off and Kris blinked, shaking his head as there was a sudden clamor as everyone snapped out of the haze of work.  Gee's rumble cut easily through the noise.  "Back in an hour."

The photographer nodded and stepped away.  Two of hir assistants came running over to unhook the camera and guide hir away.  The rest of the crew were crowding around the catering table, chatting and laughing.  Kris relaxed, rubbing the heel of his hands against his eyes and felt Glitch slump against his back.

Gee was still standing just to the left of where the photographer had been and he ran an appraising look over them both.  "Did good.  Take a break."

"God, who'da thought standing still for three hours was so exhausting?"  Glitch moaned in Kris' ear.  "I don't think I can feel my ass anymore."

"Well, I'm not feeling it for you," Kris laughed.  "Can I grab my phone, Gee?  Need to call 'Fyre."

Gee peered disdainfully down at Glitch who was protesting that his ass was fine and totally feel-able. "Sure."

He dug around in a pocket of his coat and pulled out both phones.  Kris tried to reach for his phone but Glitch was a deliberate dead weight against his back.  Kris could move but not without sending Glitch face-first into the floor.  He elbowed Glitch and made grabby hands at Gee.

Gee rolled his eyes but he was almost smiling as he stepped closer.  "Tell him to stop taking coffee breaks and get back to work while you're at it."

Kris made a vaguely assenting sound as he thumbed through the dozen messages in his inbox.  Glitch stiffened against his back and Kris lifted his head.  Glitch was staring at something over Gee's shoulder but Kris couldn't see what.  "...hey, what's that guy do-?"

As Gee turned, hand already dropping towards the holster strapped to his hip, a squat silver canister hit the plas-crete and rolled through his legs.  Kris dropped his phone.  Glitch's fingers dug into his shoulders.  The LED on the side of the canister flashed red.  Glitch wrenched him backwards and someone shouted "GRENADE!"

"Fu-" Kris heard Gee start to curse.  Then the canister exploded and there was gas everywhere.  Glitch was clinging to him.  The air was full of prickly, sticky things and Kris struggled to breathe.  The gas was thick and peppery and his eyes were stinging.  Along the side of his vision, the various icons for his cyberware flickered and grayed out one by one as he fought to breathe.  Kris pawed at his eyes and coughed, feeling Glitch's body shaking behind him.

A hand hit his shoulder, hard enough to send him flying backwards to land in a heap on top of Glitch.  The world cork-screwed around him and he couldn’t co-ordinate his limbs to break his fall.  Kris' lungs strained and he managed to breathe in a whole lungful of clean air as they rolled clear of the cloud.  His chest loosened and he forced his eyes open, blinking away the tears.  His face, his hands and all of the skin he could feel were sticky.  The whole set was covered in convict-orange paint and Gee was staggering back, hand still on his gun.

"HA! Gotcha, fucker!"  Kris didn't recognize the voice but he rolled in time to see a woman wearing a caterer's uniform snap a picture of Gee with a disposable camera.  He blinked, still not sure what the hell had just happened.

Gee looked every bit as confused, gun out and pointed at her head.  "What the... Who the fuck are you?"

"Whoa there!"  The caterer tucked the camera into her uniform.  No, Kris blinked, under her uniform.  She was wearing street armor.  Why would a caterer be wearing armor this far out of the city?  "No live ammo, asshole.  Did you even read the damn rules?"

"Rules?"  Gee snarled.  "What damned rules?"

"The Ring, man,"  the caterer snorted.  "The Ring of Honor?  What, did you hit your head or some shit?"

Ring of Honor.  Kris had heard that before.  He tried to think where but even as the last of the paint settled, his lungs were refusing to work right.  Glitch was shaking him and Gee was roaring at the caterer.

"The Ring?  I'm fucking retired, you stupid fucking idiot!  What the fuck do you think you're doing?  Do you have any idea how much this is going to fucking cost?"

The caterer ducked as Gee's finger tightened on the trigger.  "That is some bullshit excuse, you know that?"

There were a string of gunshots, cursing and shouting but Kris couldn't open his eyes.  He tried and felt the pull of skin around his eyes but they wouldn't open.  Glitch was still clinging to his shoulders and shaking him but Kris couldn't spare the energy to fight free.  Every breath felt like he was breathing in fireworks and he could feel the prickling sting of them against the inside of his lungs.

"Jay, Glitch... Look after... Are they...?" Gee's voice sounded funny, slurring and slow.  Kris tried to open his eyes and hissed.  This time, the pull of skin _hurt_ and he tried to get his hands up to his eyes.  He heard a smack, like a slap-patch hitting skin and the sounds of worried, angry voices.  Gee's was the only one he recognized.  "Models first..."

"Someone call Mr. Dorsett," and that was Yvonne sounding calm but commanding and footsteps ran off.  Drey was getting coffee, probably.  Kris' heart-rate was climbing and he was breathing in shallow, unsteady gasps.  Glitch had pulled him up but Kris couldn't keep himself steady.

"Calling now," That was Mandi, Drey's personal assistant, sounding cool and businesslike.  "Do we need an evac?"

"Not on Mr. Gibson's behalf, I shouldn't think," Yvonne said and there were footsteps coming closer.  "Let me check the other two."

"I don't think we'll be able to salvage the clothes - that stuff really stains!"  A high pitched voice with a Californian accent.  One of the wardrobe assistants.  He sounded on the verge of tears.  "It's stuck to everything."

"What happened to the clothes?"  Drey's shrill cry made Kris flinch back but Glitch wouldn't let him move.

"Paint grenade, I think."

"Oh my Goodness, I left for five minutes and you painted the place. That's not going to work at all... Paint grenade?  Why did someone set off a paint grenade?"  Drey sounded pissed.  He probably hadn't gotten his coffee and Kris would have laughed if he could have spared the air.

"Actually, I think you'll find that was a stop'n'drop," Yvonne's voice came from right in front of him and Kris jumped.  His breathing stuttered and Kris choked on the air that wouldn't come.  He felt something press against his wrist. "Bio-monitor unresponsive....does anyone have a medical record for this man?"

"Here?  Gee had it.  Um...." Drey's voice was coming closer and Glitch was patting at his back, murmuring assurance.  "The trailer, go to the trailer and bring me my PADD!"

More footsteps running away.  Kris sagged against Glitch.  It was harder every second just to fight the tightening band around his chest and there was something, something on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't remember what!  He groaned as the skin around his eyes pulled cruelly tight.

"Don't try to open your eyes," Yvonne said immediately.  "The paint's dried and likely sealed your eyes.  I can't remove the paint without the proper solvent but it shouldn't hurt you.  It's a NOK, so you'll be feeling a little dizzy-"

"He has allergies," Drey's voice again.  He sounded fainter, soft and shocked.

"NOK?"  Glitch snapped.  "You sure, doc?  Gee?"

"I-" Kris puffed out the words.  "I don't feel so..."

"Stop'n'drop? That's...." Drey crowded up, close enough that Kris could smell his cologne.  "No, no, we gotta get it off him. He's allergic to opiates!"

"Okay, Juniper," Yvonne steadied him as another coughing fit made his chest heave.  "I'm going to snap a Med-E-Vac card.  There's going to be a lot of noise but there isn't a threat.  Just keep calm and keep breathing for me, okay?"

Kris nodded, weight sagging forward as he heard the snap of the card.  Glitch was rubbing circles against his back, whispering "Breathe in and out. In and out, Kris, you're doing fine.  You're going to be fine."

Glitch was using his real name.  He wasn’t supposed to use his real name.  Kris couldn’t get his throat to work.  It hurt and every breath felt like a dead weight piling on his chest.  Kris wheezed.  He could feel the itch starting under the paint.  The sound of high-powered AV engines coming closer caused a ripple of panic to spread through the crowd of murmuring people.  Yvonne's voice rose over the clamor.  "Could we have some space please?  Stand back."

"If you're not me or a medic, then get your overpaid asses out of the way!"  Drey hollered and Glitch's nearly hysterical snort of laughter made Kris smile.  Then the engines were getting closer and the noise was so loud that Kris couldn't hear anything else.  Yvonne guided him onto something solid and held something light that smelt of plastic over his nose and mouth and Kris gulped at the cool air, feeling a knot of panic ease. 

"I'm coming with!"  Drey's voice came just as someone - Glitch - took Kris's hand and squeezed. There was a rattle-thump then another and the engines changed pitch.  The world lurched and Kris' stomach dropped.  Something cool and wet rubbed at his free wrist and Kris felt his plug being popped and the click of something being connected.  None of the grey icons even flickered and he heard someone cursing.

"Bio-monitor's fried.  Fucking idiot mercs and their stupid fucking pissing contests."  Kris didn't know that voice.

"Okay," Yvonne said soothingly.  "Do you have the contact details for his next of kin?"

"Yeah, I have everyone's details," Drey was tapping at something.  "'Fyre's his next of kin but he's in work all day today so I don't know if he's even got his phone."

"He does," Glitch's raspy voice made Kris jolt and he heard something beeping frantically.  There was more raised voices and something clicked into the nanite port just under his plug.  The world went red and blue and Kris shivered as he felt the tingle of something hot-cold spreading from his wrist.

The world went hazy for a while after that; a jumble of voices and people and Kris' head cleared slowly as he was scrubbed clean by a whole team of polite but fiercely professional nurses.  He had to wear an oxygen mask as they injected him with vial after vial of neon colored nanite gels.  He was lectured by some guy in a suit and had to thumb-print a legal form affirming that he hadn’t been doing anything illegal when the NOK was deployed against him.  Nanite Oxy Kolor – better known on the streets as a ‘stop-n-drop’ – had been some stuffed suit’s answer to police fatalities – a mix of paint and nanite-based knock-out drugs that shut down cyber-ware and tagged the perp with a noxious colored dye that took controlled solvents to remove.  The NYPD had stopped using it years ago but apparently the legal red-tape lived on.

Then he was marched back to the shower and scrubbed again.  The orange paint took forever to come off and he had to strip so they could spray the anti-histamine contact formula all over.  That was embarrassing, especially when one of the nurses gave him a quick but appreciative once over.  Afterwards, they found him some scrubs as he dried off and he was shown into another room and talked at by yet another doctor for what felt like forever.  Kris didn’t pick up on more than one word in four but he did understand the general theme; he had been very lucky.

Kris nodded and shook his head in the right places and finally he was wheeled into a private room where Glitch was pacing around the two beds to wait for his test results.  The nanites were working; he was dizzy and his stomach lurched but he didn’t need the oxygen mask any more.  Kris felt like the wrong end of a four day coding binge and he just wanted to sleep.

"Juniper!"  Glitch grabbed him.  "Shit, don't do that to me, man."

"I didn't do anything," Kris protested and winced at the hoarse sound of his voice.  He sounded like he was gargling gravel and broken glass and his throat ached.  "What was that anyway?"

"Some very, very dead street punk trying to up her merc rating," Glitch growled and Kris blinked.  "Her rating - you know the one based off that stupid dick-measuring contest that the mercs run?  The one-"

"The one where they have to prove they could have killed the other merc if they'd wanted to?"

"Yeah, that's the one.  The East Coast one is called the Ring of Honor, don't ask me why, and apparently some dick for brains didn't take Gee off the active list."  Glitch's scowl promised bad things in the dick-for-brains' immediate future.  Kris sighed and sank down to sit on the bed as his knees buckled.  "Hey, you okay?"

"I'm fine," Kris batted away Glitch's hands.  "I mean I'm not _fine_ but it's just an allergic reaction.  It's going to suck for a few hours and then I'll be fine."

"I-I didn't," Glitch smoothed the neck of the scrubs down against Kris' collarbone where the rash was fading back to an angry pink.  "I mean, I knew you were allergic to stuff ever since…  but I didn't ...I didn't think..."

"It's okay," Kris promised, patting his knee as Glitch curled up beside him.  He didn’t usually think of his allergies either; largely because they were self-inflicted.  The first few months after Choppah tried to tear his neural-processor out with a knife had been a haze of pain and to this day, Kris couldn’t remember half the drugs he’d taken to make it stop.  "That's the worst flare up I've ever had.  It's not usually a big deal, I swear."

"Says you," Glitch started before the door crashed open and Drey came in.  He nodded vaguely at them and started to pace.  And pace and pace and pace and pace and pace.  Kris' head was spinning just from watching and he swallowed a jolt of vertigo.

Glitch's hand shot out to catch Drey's arm as he passed the bed for the tenth time in less than a minute and tugged him down.  "Sit, dude."

"But-but-but-but!" Drey protested.

"Working yourself into meltdown isn't going to help," Kris said reasonably.

Drey jumped at the sound of his voice, eyes going very wide.  "But you and Glitch and Gee... and-"

"Gee'll be fine," Kris promised.  "They just have to finish running the tests - he's got more hardware than either of us so it's taking longer."

"Yeah, that stuff doesn't have enough of kick to do anything serious," Glitch agreed.  "It's just left him a little dizzy, I'll bet."

"But..." Drey started playing with the ring on his hand, eyes darting to the door.

Kris looped an arm around Drey's shoulder and hugged him gingerly.  "He'll be fine."

The door opened to reveal a doctor wearing a white coat over a business suit with a clipboard in her hands.  "Mr. Dorsett?"

"Yes!  Me!  Here!" Drey rocketed off the bed.

"We've just completed the last of the tests and I'm happy to report that your partner is going to be just fine," the doctor smiled as Drey nearly collapsed with relief.  "We've given him a temporary adrenal boost but he's probably going to be lethargic for the rest of the day.  A good night's sleep and he should be back to normal by tomorrow morning."

Drey beamed at the doctor then looked back at Kris and Glitch.  "And my friends here? How are they?"

The doctor looked questioningly at them and Glitch nodded.  Kris tipped his head.  There was nothing in the tests that Drey didn't already know and if it meant he wasn't going to worry himself into a heart attack, Kris was happy to let him sit in.

"Mr..ah...Glitch?"  The doctor waited for Glitch to nod before continuing. "Mr. Glitch's tests came back fine.  He has some minor irritation to his lung tissue and should avoid strenuous activity for the next couple of days.  There's also some minor damage to his bio-monitor that he needs to have taken care of but no sign of lingering effects.

"Okay," Drey heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"Mr...Juniper?"  Kris nodded and pushed himself a little more upright.  "Again, minor damage to the bio-monitor and there are some fluxes in his neuralware that I don't like the look of.  We did catch the allergic reaction before it escalated into full-blown anaphylactic shock but his throat is swollen and the rash will probably persist for a day or two.  Likewise, the irritation of lung tissue is more severe and you'll need to take it easy for a few days."

"Oh," Drey wrapped an arm around Kris' waist.  "Okay.  That's still ...okay.  Did someone call 'Fyre?  I gave his number to one of the nurses."

"'Fy-re?"  The doctor flipped through her clipboard. "Oh, yes, his next of kin.  Mr. Silverfyre was contacted about thirty minutes ago and confirmed the allergies for us."

"Oh... Okay," Drey squeezed Kris' waist.  "That's good.  He'll be here soon then.  Can I see Gee now?"

"Absolutely," the doctor smiled.  "If you'd like to step this way?"

Drey speed-hugged Kris and Glitch and zoomed off, face lighting up with relief.  Kris sat back against the headboard and let his head fall back against the wall.

Glitch watched Drey bounce out of the door and sighed.  "They're the real deal, aren't they?"

Kris tipped his head to the side to consider Glitch's wistful expression and scooted over to give him a hug.  "Yeah, they really are."

"You sound like shit," Glitch said, settling closer. 

Laughing made Kris' throat seize up and he had to clear his throat twice before he could make any recognizable words.  "Fuck you very much."

Glitch snuggled closer and they sat in silence for a few minutes, just breathing.  Then Glitch shook himself and sat up.  "Your boy's in the studio all day today, isn't he?  Should I call Kickstand to come get you?  Or us, rather?"

"No need to call anyone," Adam swept into the room, pink-cheeked and breathless.  "I'm here."

Kris tried to sit up but his chest tightened and he folded over in a coughing fit.  Adam's hand was warm and solid against Kris' back and he rubbed soothing circles as Kris slowly relaxed and managed to take a breath that didn't choke him.

"Don't try to speak yet," Adam said softly and when Kris looked up, there was a worried line between his eyebrows.

Glitch caught Kris' eye and smiled.  "Shoulda guessed, huh?"  He turned to Adam.  "He's been talking okay for the last ten minutes.  Sounds like he's been deep-throating a road-drill but he was talking.""

"There's a mental image I didn't need," Adam smiled at Kris' breathless but indignant sputter.  "You okay, Glitch?"

"Need a new bio-monitor," Glitch picked at the red emergency tape on his wrist.  "But I was behind Jay so..."

He shrugged and Adam nodded, arm curling around Kris' waist as Kris straightened up cautiously.

"Okay, we can sort that out later," Adam said easily.  "There's someone here that would like to see you. He's a little shy but..."

Glitch blinked at him.  "Someone here?  To see me?"

Adam nodded towards the door and raised his voice.  "You gonna stay out there all day?"

Kris lifted his head and yeah, there was someone standing in the doorway, shoulders hunched and blond hair poking out from under a baseball cap.  He looked familiar, particularly when he flipped Adam the bird, edging just inside the door to glower at Adam.  "I don't just barge into someone's hospital room unlike some people..."

Glitch's expression was a picture and he ducked his head but not before Kris saw the brilliant smile spread across his face.  Oh, right.  That was Tommy who was Adam’s bassist and Glitch’s room-mate since Friday.

Kris cleared his throat, wincing at the raw sound.  "'Fyre's never let a closed door stop him before, I think I'd be offended if it stopped him now."

"You know it, babe," Adam brushed a kiss against the corner of his eye and Kris leaned into him.  "Speed limits, dome checkpoints, my own security... What's a little door between friends?"

He winked and Kris cracked up.  He started coughing immediately, huge wracking coughs and Adam steadied him.  "Ow, ow, ow!  No fair making me laugh."

"Sorry, babe," Adam tipped his head up and kissed him gently.

Tommy had edged a little further into the room and his hand was hovering over Glitch's shoulder.  "You okay?  You look kinda shattered..."

Kris hid his smile against Adam's chest.  He liked Tommy and he liked the way Tommy handled Glitch.  It was nice to see someone else worrying about Glitch.

Glitch rubbed at his eyes.  "I'll be fine.  Takes more than a NOK-down to take me out."

"Good," Tommy swung around to point at Adam.  "I'm never riding a bike with him again!"

"Sure you will," Glitch laughed.  "You just have to take a ride with Kickstand first 'cause then nothing ‘Fyre does is ever going to be scary again."

"Hey," Kris objected.  "That's my brother you're maligning!"

"And your boyfriend!"  Adam said mock-indignantly.

"No offense," Glitch slipped behind Tommy to grin at Adam over his shoulder.  "But Kickstand is still totally my go-to-getaway-driver."

Kris patted Adam's hip as he growled and smiled.  "Some people just can't handle you, love."

"Not a problem you ever have," Adam smirked down at him then leaned in to kiss him.  When he drew back, his eyes lingered on the rash still slowly fading from Kris’ skin.  "You had me worried, babe."

Tommy and Glitch took an immediate interest in the paintings on the wall.  Kris cuddled closer, clearing his throat. "Sorry. But in my defense?  This was totally not my fault!  Not even indirectly."

"Being collateral really sucks, doesn't it?"  Glitch agreed.

"What happened?"  Adam rubbed his thumb over the red tape hiding the blank display of Kris' bio-monitor.  "Do you remember?"

Kris nodded but his stupid lungs picked that moment to spasm and he clapped his hands to his mouth as he coughed.

"Some suicidal motherfucker threw a stop’n’drop at Gee," Glitch explained for him.  "Unfortunately, he was standing like half a foot away from us and we don't have handy-dandy enhanced reflexes."

Adam rubbed Kris' back in big vigorous circles and handed him a glass of water when he could finally sit up.  "Shit, that stuff is nasty. How's Gee doing?"

"A little drowsy but he's fine," Glitch nodded to the door.  "Drey's sitting with him and they've got a car booked to get them home."

"Drey's here?"  Adam relaxed a little.  "Good."

Kris sipped reluctantly at the water.  It felt like acid going down his throat but Adam nudged him to drink a little more.  "Yeah."

Glitch was leaning a little more into Tommy, blinking slowly.  "Yeah, they're kinda sweet.  Not that I'm ever telling them that.  I will deny everything if you try to quote me."

Adam laughed, climbing into bed beside Kris and putting the hateful glass of water on the side locker.  Kris eyed it and contemplated 'accidentally' kicking it over.  Too much like effort, so he settled against Adam's chest, coughing once as Adam's arms settled around him.

"Hate this," Kris muttered. "Stupid immune system."

Adam kissed his forehead and Kris sighed.  "You'll feel better soon."

"Sorry f'r dragging you away," Kris yawned and cuddled a little closer. "From the studio."

Adam's laugh rumbled through his chest.  "It's okay.  We were just tweaking the track. Nothing serious."

"Liar," Kris slurred, eyes sliding closed.  "You were working on that new song.  You texted me..."

"Just messing with a few lyrics, really," Adam's chest shifted as he shrugged and Kris mumbled a wordless complaint.  "The melody isn't working out as well as I'd like it to."

"Mmmm?"  Adam was warm and solid and smelled like home under the exhaust fumes and make-up.  Kris settled more comfortably against him and yawned.  He'd just close his eyes for a minute and then they could go home and sleep.

"I don't think he can hear you, dude," Glitch's voice was slow and amused and Kris would have flipped him off if he could have been bothered to move.

Adam ignored Glitch and Kris relaxed.  Adam was smart enough to know better than to listen to Glitch being Glitch.  Something soft and warm settled around him and Adam cuddled him a little closer.  He was humming and Kris tried really hard to listen because that must be the new song.  He was just so tired and so sick of being barely able to breathe and today had really sucked.  He was just going to lay here with his boy until he felt up to dealing with the world again.


	12. Chapter 12

Kris’ breathing was still raw and raspy, and he hadn't slept well the previous night, waking with nightmares every couple of hours.  Adam consulted the bio-monitor again, checking Kris' vitamin levels.  He frowned at the display and pulled out some nutrient pills.  With the pills cradled in his hand, he poured out a large glass of the enriched orange juice that he'd made himself just for Kris.  Kris was scratching a little, even in his sleep, and Adam sat down next to Kris, shaking him gently to wake him.  Kris snapped up, eyes open and grabbed Adam's hand.  Adam didn't move – wouldn't move – until Kris finally recognized him. 

Kris blinked and then relaxed, smiling sleepily up at Adam right up until Adam held out the pills.  Kris hated them, big and hard to swallow, but Adam wasn't going to let him off the hook until they were gone, along with a good portion of a juice.  Kris glared up at him, but took the pills anyway. 

"Thanks," Kris croaked.

Adam replaced the patch on the back of his neck with the new one.  There were red splotches all over Kris' back.  Adam grabbed some lotion off the bedside table and slowly rubbed it into Kris' skin.  Kris sighed and leaned forward, groaning as Adam's hands ran over the itchy skin.  Adam smiled, "It's okay, babe. How you feeling today?"

"Like I spent the weekend at a Zombie blooding," Kris' breath caught and he coughed, deep and hacking and Adam patted him gently on the back, trying to give his boyfriend a little comfort.

"Well, let’s see..." Adam smirked, "Combat weapons and a hospital visit, not that far off."

Kris managed a half-laugh before coughing again.  Adam held him close as he coughed and choked.  Adam grabbed the glass from his hand as it started to tip, giving it back only when Kris finally caught his breath.

Kris sipped reluctantly at the juice and gave a final cough as he pushed it away again.

"Thanks."

"No problem, babe," Adam leaned forward, and kissed Kris on the forehead.

Adam hugged him closer, Kris' hand resting on Adam's arm as Adam hummed softly against his ear.  Yesterday had terrified him, and seeing Kris lying in a hospital bed had done nothing to ease his mind.  Case had cleared his schedule for the rest of the week, not that Adam had given him much of a choice.  Adam had gotten maybe two hours of sleep the whole night, and even now, as he held Kris, Adam worried.  He was breathing hard, rough and Adam wished that he could just take away the pain. 

Adam had known that Kris had allergies.  It was part of a long conversation that they'd had after Kris had come back into his life, just after the Trojan job.  Adam had opened up about his drug regimen and Kris had explained about his allergies.  After that, Adam had reorganized the med kits and first aid boxes, under Cale’s supervision, so that Adam's painkillers and Kris' were separate and carefully marked.  But even though he'd known Kris had serious allergies, Kris had never had suffered an attack like that.  It scared him, seeing Kris that broken and vulnerable, and he never wanted another phone call like that again.  All he’d wanted was get to Kris’ side, but they’d met him with an administrator who’d talked of lawyers, waivers and unauthorized actions and stressed that Adam couldn’t sue the hospital, like that had even crossed Adam’s mind. 

Adam couldn't wrap Kris up in cotton wool, Kris would never forgive him if he tried.  Adam'd hold his hair, he'd rub his back and hold him close, but Kris had to live his own life and Adam wouldn't stand in his way.  What he could do was make sure that the merc who’d caught Kris in the crossfire regretted it for the rest of their short, painful life and that no one ever did something so goddamn stupid around Kris again.

Adam heard the outer door of the apartment open and his hand slipped under his pillow, fingers wrapping around the butt of his gun and starting to withdraw it even as he heard the footfalls in the hallway.

"Hey, you guys up?" Glitch called.

Adam relaxed, easing his fingers away from the gun, "Yeah, man. We're in the bedroom."

Glitch looked around the door, a hand over his eyes until he confirmed - by peeking - that they were up and covered.

"Hey Jay, hey ‘Fyre," he absently scratched at a red splotch on his cheek, not really seeming to notice that he was doing it, "How're you guys?"

Kris opened his mouth but his breath came out as nothing more than a wheeze. 

Adam rubbed Kris' back as he looked up at Glitch, "He's a little better this morning, but his throat is still a little raw."

"Yeah," Glitch looked dubious, "He is getting better, right?"

Kris flipped him off between shallow breaths.

Adam caught the hand and kissed Kris' finger, "Yes. He's getting better. He's just a little rough."

Glitch looked away, scuffing his foot against the carpet.  Glitch wasn't big on public displays, or even private displays.  He usually ran, but instead he was looking doubtfully at Kris from the corner of his eye, scratching at his cheek.  Adam tossed him the cream that he'd used on Kris' back.  Glitch fumbled the catch, the tube flipping end over end until he caught it just inches off the floor.  Adam tapped his own cheek and Glitch's face pinked up.  He slathered on the cream, rubbing it in roughly, still scratching even as the cream went to work.

"So," Glitch rubbed a hand over his cheek, smoothing the last of the cream away, "I have the info you wanted on Mercy. And on the dick-for-brains who dropped that NOK-out."

Adam's PADD beeped as Glitch blinked his eye and tapped something out on his wrist-comp.  Adam pulled his PADD off the night stand and tapped the screen, unlocking it and flipping through the data.

"They're doing a training run into the Merc District today? You're fucking kidding me?"

Kris tried to look over his shoulder and Adam angled the PADD so that he could see.  He waited until Kris nodded before scrolling down, skimming the data.

"Yeah. Figuring that whole memo of 'Yeah, he's Silverfyre's brother' hasn't made it down yet," Glitch shrugged. 

Adam flicked between files quickly.  Reaching out, Kris tapped the PADD, pointing out the relevant corporate emails.  The team was going to be ramping up training soon so they’d be ready for front line duties in less than a month.  The email included plans to take them out into the Merc District to get their feet wet in a real 'Class One' environment.  Adam didn't know the precise definition a 'Class One' environment, but he could guess.  Real danger, the potential to get killed and live fire; everything the Merc District was.

Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair, "I don't know about the rest of them, but from what I saw at _Idolize:NYC_ , David is nowhere near ready."

Kris tapped a couple of keys and brought up live gang information, every gang operating in the Merc District.  The DEx logo spun at the top of the screen.  Kris frowned and Adam leaned over his shoulder, trying to see what piece of information had caught his attention.  Kris pulled a map up and tapped it, highlighting the route that Mercy’s recruits were going to take and overlaying the active gang and merc conflict zones.  They'd picked a bad route, but at least they were going early in the day;  less of a chance of running into something big, bad and angry.

Glitch hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, "Gets better - that neighborhood's where the Ring hold their open house."

Adam tapped a finger against his chin and smirked.  This was going to be classic.  Two perps, one bullet.  Kris rolled his eyes as he watched Adam and cuddled into him.

"...you're looking sneaky," Glitch's eyes narrowed a fraction, shuffling from foot to foot.

Adam cuddled against Kris, kissing the side of his head, "I've got the start of a plan..."

Kris smiled, but a yawn took over, his eyes sliding closed and opened only with an effort.

Adam looked at Glitch, "Can you find out where the open house is today?"

"Yeah, sure," Glitch nodded and stepped back, out of the room, his eyes never leaving Kris.

Adam waited until Glitch was gone before turning back to Kris, "You should sleep. You've still got a lot of stuff going around your system."

Kris was already losing the battle with sleep, his eyes closing and staying closed for longer each time.  Adam gently lifted Kris and settled him down, pulling the blanket up around him and giving him a kiss on the forehead.  He waited until Kris was asleep before leaving the room and pushing the door half-closed behind him.  He didn't want to close it completely, just in case.  Adam paused, taking a deep breath.  He blinked away the tiredness, letting his adrenal booster filter a little adrenaline into his system.  The kick pumped him up, washing the toxins from his system as his scrubbers kicked in to filter the fatigue poisons from his muscle tissues and blood.

When he opened his eyes, Glitch was looking beyond him to their room, to Kris.  Worry was written all over his face. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Adam asked.

Glitch shook his head, but nodded a moment later, "He's...  I thought he'd be better this morning. He said it wasn't serious."

"He _is_ better but it'll take a couple of days," Adam shrugged, "It could have been much worse."

It could have been much worse; Kris could be dead.  Glitch didn’t need Adam to say it and Adam didn’t need to think about it.  Glitch swallowed, nodding, and Adam forced a smile. 

“He’s going to be fine, Glitch,” Adam tried to reassure him, “He’s got too much stubborn for something like this to keep him down.  Give him a day and he’ll be back up and fighting fit.” 

Glitch swallowed and nodded, "Yeah. Yeah, he will.”  He paused for a second, still looking at the half-closed door before pulling himself back together and setting his shoulders, “You know what else I found out when I was trawling the Ring's systems this morning?"

Adam shook his head, "What?"

"The Ring of Honor doesn't penalize for collateral damage."

Adam's eyebrow arched, "At all? But they copied their rules from the Iron Circle back home."

"Yeah, they left that one out," Glitch breathed a harsh laugh, "Also, there’s no limit on the non-fatal stuff."

"No limits at all?"

Glitch almost snarled out the words, "Anything that won't drop a street merc is A-Ok.  Also, they don't have details on SOs or workmates."

"Well, that's about to change," Adam thumped his fist into his palm.  "What have you got on the lead merc in the Ring?"

Glitch tapped his wrist-comp, "Goes by 'Ringmaster' these days. He's pretty paranoid about his online presence and tries to stay off the grid but we did some digging. He used to go by 'Sabrian' back in San D until..." Glitch's smile turned sharp, and Adam saw Root shining through Glitch's eyes, "he had to leave in a hurry."

"Sabrian?" Adam laughed, "Yeah, he hightailed it out on the back of a bus chased by the entire Zephyr Go-Gang."

Adam knew Sabrian well.  Hell, he'd been part of the reason that Sabrian had left the city.  He'd been a poor street merc, trying to make his way up in the Circle rankings, but he'd never made it into single figures, had never been good enough.  How he'd gotten to the lead spot here in NYC, Adam didn't know, but Sabrian would live to regret that.

"Pretty much," Glitch gave a half shrug, "He's a Poser and he got himself booted out of the Iron Circle so he's made a little kingdom here. Most real mercs don't sign up to the Ring anymore."

"I heard it had crashed, but I didn't think it was that bad," Adam shook his head.  "I know Sabrian. I think I'm going to have a little chat with him, convince him to reform a few of the rules they're running under."

"Fair enough," Glitch shrugged, "Open house is at four and I can't find Ringmaster ahead of that.  If Jay was up, he probably could."

"Track it and let me know?"  Adam asked, "He's going to be asleep and he's not supposed to jack in for another couple of days just in case."

"I'll do my best but Open Houses are usually only announced, like, twenty minutes before they happen.  Mercs are paranoid," Glitch tapped his wrist comm again, sighing when nothing came up.

Adam sighed, "I'm not sure Glitch. Maybe SYS can help? I don't know if he's..."

Adam bit his lip as he shook his head.  Kris wasn't supposed to plug in.  With his system still lit up like a holiday tree, it just wasn't safe to plug in.  Nerve damage, neurons still sparking, anti-histamine patches and the rest of the medication that he was on would only be made worse if Kris jacked in.  It was too dangerous.  Adam'd come far too fucking close to losing Kris yesterday, and even though he was getting better, one seizure while he was under would put him back in the hospital or worse.  Adam couldn't let that happen.

"I know but....there's a reason he had the highest bounty," Glitch's voice was soft.

Adam shook his head, "No.  If we have to, we’ll wait, but he’s not plugging in.  You got me?  He’s not plugging in.  Not until Nakamura personally gives him the all clear.  I’m not…  I can’t…”  Adam’s breath caught in his throat.  “No, Glitch.  Find some other way to find Sabrian."

"I'd love to but if you wanna find this guy, I'm not seeing a lot of options," Glitch shrugged.

"There are always options.  You've got access to the current ranks of the Ring, yeah?" Adam asked after a moment’s thought.

"Sure," Glitch pulled up the list on his wrist-comp, and tilting it so that Adam could see the display, "But I can't get tracking info on Ringmaster without tripping an alert."

"You won't have to," Adam smiled.  "Reset everyone's levels. Set everyone to 1000, track the members. At least, track everyone over a 10. They're going to want to talk to Ringmaster soon as they can and an Open House is the perfect opportunity."

Glitch blinked and Adam could see the wheels turning.  He smirked, "You really are an evil bastard.  No wonder he loves you."

Adam shook his head, "I just know how they think. It takes a lot to get that high up the rankings. If that's wiped out, you're going to be pissed enough to want to take it out on the boss."

Glitch's eyes flickered, light flashing across the surface and when he blinked again, he was smiling, "Done.  Gimme your phone."

Adam handed his phone over and watched Glitch tap a code into the handset.  He handed it back a moment later and Adam watched the display change, updating some of the firmware.  Adam blinked and a new icon appeared at the corner of his vision.  A dragon wing, spreading out, as it settled to rest.

"That should give Jay's suite access and they'll track what you're up to."

"That'll work."  He looked back at the bedroom, "You're going to be here, you're going to stay here?"

Glitch nodded, scratching at the back of his hand, "I can stay."

"Good," Adam nodded, "If I want to intercept Mercy and have a word with Ringmaster, I gotta go out and I don't want to leave him alone."

"I'll stay. Do what you gotta."

"He shouldn't need anything but just stay close," Adam breathed, "He's had his supplements but his patch will need changing in about 8 hours. I’ll be back, but just in case?"

"Can do."

Adam rested a hand on his arm, "Kickstand knows what to do if you need help but I'll have my phone with me and on."

Glitch shrugged off the hand, "A'right. Stay safe, do not get dead and don't get hurt.  J'd kill me."

Adam smiled, "Don't plan on it, but I'll watch my back. You watch Jay's."

"Will do," Glitch promised.

Adam patted him on the shoulder, "Veggie mix is in the fridge and we got a fresh delivery yesterday. Go nuts and don't forget to feed Jay. Whatever you can get into him."

"Okay. I can totally do this," Glitch took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Adam sobered, turning completely serious, "If you can't, tell me now."

"I can do it," Glitch sounded like he was trying to convince himself and Adam could see the fear and worry beneath that. 

"He's going to be fine, Glitch," Adam assured him.

"Yeah. He is?" Glitch sounded uncertain.

"He is."  Adam watched him for a moment.  Glitch was spooked, "That was the first time, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. He," his voice cracked and he swallowed, "...this wasn't a concern before."

"It is now, but it was caught in time. He's tender but tomorrow, it'll be like it never happened. He's resilient, Glitch, and I know you worry about him, but he's going to be fine."

"Okay," Glitch breathed out the word, "Okay."

"When I get back, you and I are going to sit down and you're getting a first aid course, no arguments," Adam told him.  "Keep watching the Ring members. Call me when you find something, and take care of Jay for me."

"Will do," Glitch nodded.

Adam went to the closet and opened it, pulling out his street armor.  He tugged on an armored t-shirt and shucked the sweatpants in favor of heavy armored pants, complete with hard armored pads.  His armored street jacket came next and Adam tucked his weapons into their holsters, knives and guns disappearing under the armor.  With a flick of his eye, Adam's cyberware kicked in.  Every piece of merc 'ware coming online and green lights flashed across his vision.  It felt good.  It felt damned good.  He'd missed this feeling.  Flexing his fingers, Adam could feel the difference already. 

Adam rolled his shoulders and checked on Kris one last time, leaving a kiss on his forehead before he hit the streets.

\--

Adam slowed and rolled to a stop in one of the lay-by's that lined the main thoroughfare, kicking down his bike's stand and sitting back as he took in the area around him.. The lay-by wasn't a natural feature, but the half-repaired wreckage of a LAW impact, months old and filled up with rubble.  Some cheapskate city official had repurposed it into a bus stop, although there hadn’t been a bus running through this area in more than ten years.  This was the Merc District, close as NYC came to the Gauntlet, and a hell of a lot safer than the permanent war zone that Kris had called home for five years. 

Adam’s lip curled.  Here, people played at being mercs as they walked down the streets with nine mils strapped to their hips and armor that wouldn’t stop a draft.  Adam could have taken out half the population here without needing to break a sweat, but he wasn't here for fun and games.  Adam wanted to meet with David again and remind Mercy that he was watching every move David made.  He wondered what Mercy hoped to gain from taking the untrained recruits out into the Merc District and if they were finally going to start giving them the training that they'd need if they wanted to survive more than a week on the corporation's front line. 

Adam turned as he heard the rumbling, tensing as he saw one of the neighborhood patrols grumbling past.  Two armed guards wielding heavily modified submachine guns sat on top of the armored SUV, watching everything from behind mirror shades, tracking every tiny movement.  The SUV carried a large roof-mounted minigun, manned by a third guard kitted out in a heavy duty armored helmet and flak jacket.  It was a formidable vehicle and the guards on it certainly knew their way around the guns that they held.  There was an casual air to the men that spoke of experience and danger, far above that of the guys on the streets around them.  They weren't the standard NYC corporate mercs.  They were professionals, ex-street mercs turned corporate for a hefty paycheck, brought in from somewhere else no doubt and paid to keep the peace, such as it was. 

Adam didn't miss the signs of comms chatter between the two guards and the driver as they spotted him. Adam kicked off his bike just as they pulled up next to him, standing his ground as the gunner swung the minigun around. One of the guards climbed down off the top of the SUV.  The other guard, still holding his submachine gun, moved to cover his friend.

Tiny wires connected a port in the mirror shades to a set of microplugs behind the guard's ear and Adam could see flashes of red light against the shiny surface of the glasses.  It was enough to tell him that they were running scans and probably relaying information from their central command; crosschecking him against their contact database and determining what level of threat he represented.  Past convictions and outstanding warrants too, in case there was a viable bounty to collect.  Adam crooked a finger on the bridge of his own shades and pulled them down his nose until he was looking over the top of them. 

"Silverfyre?" the guard asked.

Adam nodded, making no move towards his holsters.  At this range, the minigun would tear straight through his armor before his guns could clear their holsters.  An itchy trigger finger was a stupid reason to die.

"You got business in this area?  Our records state that you're retired."

Adam nodded again, "I am."

"Contract or pleasure?" the guard asked.

Adam's smirked.  No one came to the Merc District for pleasure.

"Meeting," Adam wasn't keen on giving away all his secrets to these guys, but they didn't seem any closer to packing up and moving on.

"Command would like to speak to you," the guard said and pulled out an ear bud from a pocket, handing it over.

Adam looked at it for a moment, checking for any exposed wiring or signs of tampering.  When he saw none, he took it from the guard's fingers and held it close to his own ear, using his cyber enhancements to tune into the frequency and amplify it until he could hear it. 

"What?" he demanded.

"MercCorp Command would like to offer you a position extend a job offer at this time," an anonymous voice on the other end of the ear bud spoke.  "Our records show that you changed your status to retired prior to moving to the East Coast and been awarded a rank of RET0.  Our records further show that you have not secured employment with any of the security corporations in the city and are, at present, not working.  We would like to offer you the position of Unit Commander, with the pay and benefits as appropriate to your ranking."

Adam blinked and looked at the ear bud, before handing it back to the guard.

"Tell Command that their records are out of date and that I’m not interested," Adam smiled as he delivered the news, but his hands were inching closer to his guns, livewire covers retracting just in case. 

The guard looked at him, tilting his head to the side and finally nodded, "Command acknowledges and is updating your records.  Thank you for your time.  Have a nice day, Mister Silverfyre."

The guard climbed back up onto the SUV, the gunner turned the minigun forward again and they trundled on down the street.  Adam's eyebrow rose and he knuckled his shades back up his nose.  He kept watching them until they turned the corner and disappeared down another street.  He shook his head and leaned back against his bike.

He was just starting to relax, as much as he could in this environment, when his phone rang.  The displayed name was Nitro, and Adam's eye flicked over the answer icon. 

"'Fyre, sorry I didn't get back to you.  Just woke up yesterday and they wouldn't let me have a phone.  Ended up nicking this one off my son," Nitro sounded like shit and Adam frowned.

"Just woke up yesterday?" Adam asked, standing up straight as he listened, filtering out the background noises from the call.

"Yeah, turns out that Crusader is a fuck-ton more paranoid than we gave him credit for.  He had the apartment rigged, mate, blew as soon as we got to his war room.  We didn't get much, but," Nitro trailed off and Adam could hear him shuffling and then a door click, "he's got a hate-on for you, 'Fyre, and no mistake.  I'm talking defaced posters on the wall, pictures, the whole psycho deal.  Keep an eye out."

Adam cursed, "Were you able to get anything else?"

"Apart from concussion and a coma?" Nitro laughed a dry huff of breath and then sobered again.  "Yeah, I've had the guys in and been going over some of the feeds that they gathered while they were storming the place.  Wasn't supposed to, but when did I ever follow the rules?  Saw something on one of the tables in the main room.  It was an East Coast visa, mate, green stamped and with NYC as the receiving city.  It was there when the apartment went boom, and those take a couple of weeks to replace but if he's gotten it green stamped, then he's got someone behind him or he's picked up a truckload of money from somewhere. You know what it takes to get an NYC visa."

Adam knew very well what it took to transfer from West Coast to East.  It took a serious amount of corporate swag or else a financial statement to say that you could support yourself independently.  Full background checks were mandatory and not easy to spoof.  Adam had had DEx behind him wiping away anything that would get him red flagged and his name down on the _Idolize:San D_ and _Idolize:NYC_ books, he'd been green stamped almost immediately. In fact, none of them had had issues moving to NYC thanks to Hijack's Little Helpers and DEx smoothing the way.  Crusader shouldn't have gotten green stamped.  He was a sloppy, broke merc-wannabe and there were no data runners left in San D good enough to bypass the immigration systems even if Crusader had the cred to buy them.   

"Yeah, yeah, I do," Adam frowned.

"Keep your eyes open.  Hate to lose a friend who owes me a favor," Nitro huffed another laugh.

"You need anything, man?" Adam asked.

A couple of weeks in the hospital had to be hell on Nitro's savings.  The guy had done Adam a major favor and Adam wasn't going to leave him out of pocket because of it. 

"Nah, 'Fyre, I'm good.  That foundation you tapped to cover my med bills did more than that.  Don't know who you pulled strings with, but they took care of Kathy and Petey while I was in the hospital.  They gave me an offer to work for them while I'm recouping," Nitro paused, "I think I'm going to do it too.  Gonna be off the street for a while and the deal they put together pays well enough that I don't have to worry about hitting my New Life kits or hitting Petey's college fund."

Adam had no idea what foundation Nitro was talking about.  Adam hadn't even known that Nitro had been in the hospital.  When he hadn't called, Adam had assumed that Nitro had dumped Crusader off at the nearest body shop and gotten on with his life.

"So yeah, if you need me, you can track me down at the Machina Foundation.  They got offices on the south edge of the Gauntlet," Nitro told him. 

Adam rolled his eyes at the name.  Machina Foundation?  As in _Deus Ex Machina_?  As soon as Kris was better, he and Adam were having a long talk about subtlety.  At least Nitro would be taken care of and his family would be well cared for while he was recovering. 

"Alright, Nitro.  Take it easy," Adam replied.  "Call if you need anything.  Thanks for the info.  I'll keep my eyes open."

"No problem, mate," Nitro was interrupted by an irate voice in the background then the phone disconnected.

Adam sat back against his bike again, his mind working overtime as he tried to work out why Crusader was moving to NYC.  Was this the next stage of his plan?  Hiring guys in San D didn't do anything, so was Crusader headed up to NYC to track him?  Adam was the only solid lead left.  It would make sense, but Adam couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else going on.  He’d have to get Allison to up the security on the club and make sure that Gee had some onsite security that he trusted.  He’d talk to Kris himself and tell him what was happening.  Until they had a lead on Crusader, Kris was going nowhere alone, even if that meant that Adam had to bite the bullet and ask Cheeks to be Kris’ shadow until this was resolved and Crusader was nothing more than parts on the side of the street.

He was still thinking about Crusader when the Mercy group rounded the corner.  Adam let his shades slide down and focused on the group.  The instructor was easy to spot, the only one with honest-to-God street armor.  The rest of the group were kitted out in everything from dime store off-the-shelf stuff straight through to second-hand thrift-store mismatches in every shade imaginable, cheap and with the stopping power of a wet newspaper. They were a joke, even here in NYC, and if it wasn't for the fact that the city’s most dangerous didn't get out if bed until after dusk, they'd already be statistics.  They moved down the street, all twenty of them in the middle of the asphalt street, nine mil pop guns clutched too tightly in their hands as they scanned the streets and still saw nothing.  They looked past him once, twice, but never saw him and Adam shook his head.

Engines gunned on a side street and there was a very familiar double boom and the tell tale echoes of a .45 _Colt_.  Adam's guns connected with a thought.  He was already bringing them to bear as the first car screamed around the corner, loosing traction as two wheels left the ground.  Adam ran towards David and the rest of the Mercy fledglings.  Their trainer was running in the opposite direction, not even shouting an order to the kids behind him.  The kids, for their part, were just standing there, guns up and pointing at the oncoming car.

"Run," Adam shouted, "Get off the street."

One or two turned and broke for the nearest doorway but the rest stood their ground like the untrained idiots that they were.  David was still in the street, trying to pull one of the other guys with him.  Adam couldn’t tell if David was being noble or stupid but either way his buddy the guy was frozen stock still.  Adam cursed and moved to the middle of the road, ten yards in front of the kids and planted his feet.  He'd only get one shot at this and if he missed… well, he _wouldn't_ miss.

Adam's targeting scopes tracked over the car’s windshield.  Nothing so he switched to thermograph. The driver was visible.  Adam centered and squeezed, his guns snapping out a double bark, and the driver's head snapped back.  The car swerved and shimmied and heading straight for an abandoned store front.  The car behind slammed on the brakes and reversed, rubber lining the asphalt in its wake.

Adam moved cautiously, approaching the crashed and smoking car with a healthy amount of paranoia, guns still up and scopes tracking.  The side window cracked as the passenger took a shot.  It was two feet wide but Adam wasn't taking chances.  He squeezed the triggers again, emptying the clip in three seconds.  There was a groan and then nothing.  Adam watched on thermograph as he ejected the empty clips and slammed home two fresh magazines, bringing the guns up again.  The figure in the passenger seat didn't move and the color signature was already flattening out. 


	13. Chapter 13

The worst part, Kris decided in the shower, was the itching.  He knew better than to scratch but god, the itching.  Most of the rash was gone, leaving just a red/pink blotch around his plugs but the itch remained.  He spun the dials, cooling the water in the hope that it would help.

The worst was the psychosomatic itch inside his plugs.  There weren't even any nerve-endings connected to the wires - the plugs used the nervous system but in a way that left no physical overlap - but the urge to just claw his arms open to make the itching stop.  Kris caught himself before he scratched but he couldn't keep from rubbing at the edges.  He felt like shit even after a decadent shower.  His chest felt bruised and breathing hurt if he moved too fast.  He wanted to just curl up and sleep until he was better.

"Hey, dude!"  Glitch was hovering at the bedroom door.  "You're awake!"

Kris yawned.  "Against my better judgment.  Where's ‘Fyre?"

"Gone to take care of some things," Glitch shrugged with his whole body.  "Don't think he was expecting you to wake up so soon."

"You're tracking him?" It grated not be able to do it himself but Kris wasn't ready to trust his plugs enough to jack in himself, even if he wasn't sure Adam would kill him for trying.  Kris felt the spasm shuddering down his arm and stuffed his hands under his hoody to hide the tremor. 

"Yeah," Glitch bobbed his head.  "You wanna take over?"

"Wish I could," Kris pushed himself upright and started to pull on his hoody.  Just getting dressed was exhausting and he had to lean on the dresser.  Stupid medication.  "But I'm going to have to trust you for the next week."

"A week!"  Glitch stopped bouncing, going still and he looked Kris up and down.  "You said it wasn't anaphylaxis.  You said we caught it in time!"

"We did," Kris held up a hand.  "It's not the allergy that the problem.  It's the long-term effects."

"It's an allergic reaction," Glitch protested.  "That explains the shortness of breath but why shouldn't you be able to jack in?"

"Because of the drugs," Kris made his way slowly back into the bathroom and started sorting through the bottles on the counter.  No slap-patches this time.  He had more pills and capsules than Adam used to take and a paper-list in Adam's looping handwriting detailing the dosage he needed.  Kris hadn't paid attention to any of it when they'd discharged him but apparently Adam had.  Kris started to count out the dosage.  He recognized some of them just by size and color which was depressing.  Three of them - the big diamond-shaped ones - need to be taken with food and Kris scraped the pills off the counter and straightened up.

"That's...a lot of pills," Glitch stepped forward to snag one of the bottles.  "I didn't think Nakamura practiced in NYC?"

"He doesn't, but he's still my primary physician," Kris was already running through a mental list of what was in the fridge.  He wasn't up to actually cooking.

"Seriously?" Glitch was still rifling through the medications.  "You've been here for what, nine months?  Longer?  Definitely time to find a doc on the same coast."

"Not worth it," Kris shrugged.  "Nakamura was there when I did whatever I did to my brain.  There's no point in pulling in anyone else."

"'Whatever I did'?" Glitch trailed him into the kitchen, moving to take the bread out of the press for him.  "You mean when you took down the Vortex?"

"Yeah," Kris tugged his hoody a little tighter around himself.  He felt a bone-deep chill and shaking made his muscles ache.  "It really isn't a good idea to hack your cyberware but apparently I've opened up a whole new arena in 'things people can do to screw themselves up' which is something?  Nakamura doesn't know what the long term consequences are so he double-checks the data every time I get scanned."

"Nakamura doesn't know what's wrong with you?" Glitch's voice edged into shrill and Kris winced.  The pulsing headache ratcheted up and he nearly scattered his pills across the counter.

"That's not what I said," Kris said reluctantly, poking at the coffee machine to avoid Glitch's eyes.  "I said he doesn't know what the long term consequences of what's wrong with me are."

"'Fyre said you were going to be fine!"

"I am," Kris hitched a shoulder, watching Glitch's expression in the shining chrome of the coffee machine.  "I just might know a few things more than Nakamura realizes I do."

"The kind of things that ‘Fyre doesn't know?" Glitch folded his arms and Kris sighed.

"The kind of things that even Nakamura doesn't know I know," Kris confessed.  "I wrote the firewall for the server he keeps his files on - not that he remembers - and I took a look.  I had to write a program to parse the med-speak but I got the basics down."

"Tell me," Glitch demanded.

"Brain damage," Kris looked down at his hands.  "Technically at least."

"How do you _technically_ have _brain damage_?!"

"Because the damage isn't to my brain as such," Kris said.  "It's not 'brain-damage' the way data runners normally mean it.  I have damage to the medulla and brain-stem, not the cerebellum the way most data runners burn out.  It's all in the autonomic reflexes, or so he thinks."

"Bullshit," Glitch poked his neck and Kris shrugged him away.  "You'd be dead.  You're not allowed to be dead!  Don't be dead!"

"Yeah but you see," Kris turned to face him.  "I'm incredibly fortunate because I live in the future and I have a computer wired into my hindbrain that picked up the slack.  And I know, that's not supposed to be possible but Nakamura can't think of any other explanation."

"What happens if you get EMP-ed?"

"I never want to find out," the coffee machine beeped and Kris poured a cup of coffee into Adam's mug.

"Should you be drinking coffee?  I'm sure 'Fyre would rather you drank juice," Glitch stole his mug despite Kris' best efforts.  "Gotta fine tune that busted up brain of yours."

"Fuck off," Kris complained but he poured a glass of juice all the same.  His throat still felt like it had been sand-papered and the juice stung the whole way down.  "I need coffee."

"Tough," Glitch drained the cup and flashed him a cheeky smile.  "'Fyre's orders - no jacking in, no plugging in and no caffeine."

Kris muttered darkly into his glass.  He didn't think Adam had said any such thing but Glitch wasn't going to admit it.  Kris' mind felt fuzzy and the coffee smelt so good - craving was pretty much ingrained at this point.  It was going to be a long day.  He poked at the toast when Glitch tried to push a plate of it on him but Kris' throat barely allowed the juice.  It took less than five minutes before Glitch's hovering got irritating.  Five minutes after that, the only thing keeping Glitch's jaw intact was Kris' inability to breathe long enough to throw the punch.

The pills clogged up his throat and Kris gagged on them, swallowing hard enough to hurt his throat worse.  Kris pressed the glass against his forehead and waited for his stomach to settle before he tried to move.  Glitch was watching him through narrowed eyes when Kris looked up.

"SYS wants to talk to you," Glitch said eventually.  "If you think you're up to it."

"I can hold a phone," Kris set the glass down.  "Like hell I'm jacking in."

"No jacking in," Glitch nodded.  "You still have a meat-safe interface?"

"You mean a keyboard?" Kris asked dryly.

"I didn't know you kept antiques!"  Glitch stuck his tongue out.

"I have a non-plug interface set-up," Kris said.  "Adam got me a solid-light interface as a moving-in present.  I don't need to be jacked in to see anything she needs to send me, if that's what you're trying to ask."

"Dick," Glitch said comfortably and Kris pushed the glass away a little further.

Technically, Kris was supposed to keep his non-essential equipment in the third bedroom.  When Adam had suggested that, Kris was nearly certain he'd expected Kris to have a few spare computers.  In practice, there was just about enough room for Kris and Glitch to fit among the towers of tech.  Adam's second gun locker was slotted between two back-up servers and the hundred and one different pieces cutting edge tech that Kris had spent his liquidated emergency funds on in the first few months after they'd moved to New York took up pretty much every other square inch of space.  There was more computational power in this room than in half the corp IT control rooms.  Adam had been remarkably tolerant of Kris' addiction to all things cutting edge and shiny, even after they'd actually had to take this apartment instead of the upper-floor one to fit everything in.

The solid-light interface was set in a polished wooden desk that looked like it belonged in a period drama right up until Kris touched the controls and the system came online.  The micro-projectors came to life in a miniaturized explosion of virtual fireworks and the splash text thanked Kris for using IEBM systems and the log-in fields popped up, rotating around the central axis.

"State-of-the-art ABI then," Glitch snickered in his ear.

"No, no," Kris held up a finger.  "This isn't my Ass-Backwards-Interface."

It took a minute to find the box with the actual physical keyboard in it and Glitch pretty much started to howl with laughter as Kris blew the dust off the old M-Unicomp 748.  It was one of the last analog keyboards ever produced.  Kris' grandma had used one and Kris had learned to code on it, sitting in his grandma's lap with the smell of musty air and boiled sweets.

"Holy cow," Glitch laughed.  "How are you going to wire that in?"

"Oh, no," Kris smiled brightly.  "Wireless. Let me show you."

"I didn't think-" Glitch managed before Kris hit him with the keyboard.  Glitch went flying into the wall.  "JESUS ELECTRONIC PACKET-SKIPPING CHRIST!  WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT MADE OF?  LEAD?"

"Plastic," Kris said sweetly.  "Oh, and about ten pounds of scrap metal."

"Dickhead," Glitch muttered, rubbing his shoulder resentfully.  "You fucking weaponized your keyboard."

"Well, it's not like I'm using it as an actual input," Kris said reasonably.  "But there's enough weight that it'll put a merc on their ass."

"You've tested that?" Glitch hefted the keyboard speculatively, aching shoulders forgotten.  "On 'Fyre?"

"Not exactly," Kris hedged.  Adam had found out about it during the move.  Kris hadn't asked Adam to pick up the cardboard box after all and Adam had been wearing steel-toed boots so he hadn't broken anything.  "But he approves.  Always have a backup weapon."

"You're thinking like a merc," Glitch complained.

"I'm thinking like someone who lives with a merc and has a shiny bounty that would pay for the most excessive wet-dream of the most depraved mercs in the world," Kris said, fingers flying over the projected keypad, "and who wants to live to see my next birthday."

"...well that's cheerful," SYS' voice was dry.  "I think we can aim a little longer than just your next birthday, H."

"Morning, Val," Kris smiled.  "I'm explaining to Glitch why I still have the old Unicomp-"

"The weaponized paper-weight?" SYS snorted.

"Hey!" Glitch barked.  "You knew about that?!"

"Well, yeah," SYS sounded bemused.  "You didn't?"

"No," Glitch dumped his deck on the desk part of Kris' interface and sulked.  "I'm gonna go check on your boy before he gets shot or some shit."

"Appreciate it," Kris tossed him a cushion as SYS laughed in the background.  Glitch flipped off her ikon, a neon-veined figment floating by the monitoring software for the suite and connected his plugs with a defiant click.  Kris only just managed to get the cushion between Glitch's head and the deck in time to stop Glitch giving himself a concussion. 

"He's in a bad mood," SYS said, ikon rotating to face Kris again.  "What's happened to get his wires crossed?"

"Yesterday," Kris coughed, throat closing for a heart-stopping second.  "Apparently I am no longer the prettiest princess in the state.  He's a little freaked."

"Well, back when we were sharing time in the meat-space, you were damn near invincible," SYS said mildly.  "It's always a shock when the foundations of the earth shift."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Kris pointed out.  SYS had a habit of waxing poetic when she felt they were being 'emotionally constipated boys' but usually Kris could see what she was hinting at.  This time, she was just being weird and Kris could tell the difference.  Gods and networks knew he'd had time to learn.

They'd spent three years becoming the sort of team that would put DEx top of the hit list for every corp grossing over two billion a year.  Kris could barely remember what it was like to be that young and that sure that all they needed was the right program and the right combination of timing and balls to change the world.  They had lived in one of the grungy fringes of the ganglands, the buildings too expensive to tear down that had been colonized by the people who still believed they could do better than the corporate suburbs or the ravaged ganglands.  SYS had been Pix-El back then, come to San D to learn the ropes of unsecured data-running.

They'd met in Over-Loaded, bonded over the latest (screwed-up) release of Ava-Ware and the rest had been history.  They'd talked for hours and started building around the ideas and without them ever really planning it, the 'Net was their domain.  DEx had always been a team of equals.

"You were always the one with the ideas," SYS pointed out.

"No fair reading my mind," Kris joked but it fell flat.

"Sounds like Glitch isn't the only one with his wires in a knot," SYS said.  "You wanna talk about it?"

"There isn't an 'it' to talk about!"

"Uh-huh," SYS' ikon settled down, cross-legged with the patterns of code-circuitry dimming.  "Sure there isn't."

"Glitch is just over-reacting,” Kris brought up the clunky programs that let him access the online programs.  "I always kept a fall-back."

"Yeah, but you never put that much thought into it before," SYS said reasonably.  "And six years ago, you'd have stayed in bed and trusted me to handle security checks alone-"

"I trust you-" Kris objected.

"I know," SYS' ikon held up two tiny hands.  "That's not what I meant.  I don't think that you don't trust _me_ , I'm just saying that there was a time when you would have left this sort of security check to me and assumed that it was dealt with.  You wouldn't have answered my call.  You might have called me back but you wouldn't be making this much effort."

"That was years ago," Kris argued.  "Things change."

"Yeah, but you've changed a lot," SYS' ikon refreshed and she moved on before Kris could argue.  "So, you managed to wipe out pretty much all your tracks in San D.  I only knew what you were doing and when because you told me, and it still took me a week to dig up anything worth noticing.  The only connection left to any of your old IDs is that the _Idolize:San D_ manager knows you used to work the bar at Over-Loaded and that you're Kickstand's brother.  The brother thing is a non-issue-"

That had been the one thing Kris had managed to do right.  Even before the first bounties were posted, he'd been careful to keep Hijack as far from Cale and Kickstand as he possibly could.  Even Choppah hadn't ferreted out that connection.  Kris knew that but even as he thought the words, he felt that nagging sense of a loose end flapping.

"Can you make sure of that?"

"I can try," SYS hesitated.  "If you really want me to but..."

"But?" It did nothing for his niggling sense of worry that she sounded as uncertain as Kris felt right that second.  SYS had handled the housekeeping - something she still held over their heads when she wanted something - and she had an instinct for trouble. 

"But there's a risk that clearing his history again will draw attention," SYS paused, giving Kris time to join the obvious dots.  With what was available in San D right now, anyone who was looking might - at worst - be suspicious.  If SYS deleted the trail, they'd have proof.  Kris breathed out and went back to flicking through SYS' results.  "More attention, I mean.  I've been tracking the delays and red-tape he's been dealing with and there's no pattern."

"None at all?" Kris asked, frowning.

"None what-so-damn-ever," SYS confirmed.  "There isn't even accidental synchronicity.  I've been tracking everything over the last year and there's nothing.  No way this bullshit is random."

"Son of a motherfu-" Kris bit the end off the curse, banging his hand down hard enough to make the holographic display ripple.  "Four fucking months I have been fixing and refixing his paperwork..."

"Sucks, doesn't it?" SYS said grimly.  "Start with the September figures and you see..."

It took nearly two hours to unpick the tangled web of bribes and false information and Kris was amazed again at how clearly SYS had grown up.  For all the things that had stayed the same - the biting wit, the dedicated attention to detail - SYS had changed.  She was Val now, a new identity that wasn't really new.  She was an associate professor at San Francisco's Department of Computer Programming, living in a bungalow in the suburbs and attending seminars on Corporate Employability and Ethics.  Kris had tested her new ID himself and it was as solid as the foundations under the corp towers.

The only change that Kris hadn't needed time to adjust to, was Val's partner.  Glitch had laughed at how they'd all wound up with mercs before Killjoy broke his heart.  Kris hadn't met Storm Front yet but SYS sounded happy and in love, and Kris was glad to see it.  Glitch had spent a weekend up in San Fran and given Storm Front a thumbs up.  They'd both still do everything in their power to destroy her if she hurt SYS but that was a given.  Kris shook his head and forced his attention back to the figures.

SYS was right - looking back over the whole sweep of Cale's financial/legal/logistical woes, Kris could see how carefully orchestrated the whole thing was. The overly random appearance of the data was as good as a red flag and Kris could almost admire the twisted sonuvabitch for the dedication that had gone into it.  Never the same problem twice, never a problem from the same area twice in a row and now that he was really looking at the data, Kris couldn't believe he'd missed it.

He said as much to SYS and she snorted.  "They knew what they were doing, that's for damn sure."

"Any theories?"

"Aside from the cyber-activist group wearing elephant masks in the corner of the room?"  SYS' ikon flickered.  "It's been done by at least four data runners, no connection between the ones I've IDed and no personal connection to anyone in your brother's circle so I'm thinking corp."

"Because a corp's going to give a shit about a bike shop opening on the fringe of the Merc District," Kris scoffed.

"They might," SYS hesitated.  "Don't take this the wrong way, but you might be working from faulty data here..."

"Faulty how?"

"He - and from what you've said, you too - seem to be working on the assumption that NYC works by the same rules as San D," SYS said carefully.  "This is New York, H, things don't work the same here.  He could have missed a hand in need of greasing, or a corp might wanna recruit him when he's broke and desperate, or some dickweed VP might be doing it because they can, or someone he pissed off back in San D might be feeding a corp bogus info.  It might not be personal."

"Not _personal_?!"

"You know what I mean," SYS said.  "Thing is, if it's a corp doing it, then we really haven't been looking in the right places."

"Yeah," Kris was forced to agree.  He had done the top-level sweeps and there were passive Trojan viruses sitting in the management systems for every national or bigger corp but those searches wouldn't find the kind of petty spite SYS was talking about.  "Can we back trace and start looking in the right places now?"

"We can," SYS said slowly.  "But again, H, we can't do it fast.  If we're wrong again then-"

"Another big honking sign that DEx are here and we confirm to them - or anyone else watching - that Kickstand has links back to us," Kris sighed heavily.  "I know.  I don't like it but I know."

"Right now," SYS said quietly.  "The best connection to DEx is your boy."

"What?  What do you mean?"

"Silverfyre was the one that cashed in the Trojan job and if you'd hired a plane to write 'DEx was Here' in the sky, you couldn't have done a better job of showing us behind that," SYS pointed out.  "Which is why most people don't guess that Silverfyre was involved but there are a few people who will know or guess at least."

"I know," Kris chewed his lip.  "I wish to fucking God I'd thought to scrub that fucking program-"

The only reason Kris' then-brand-spanking new deck had even had the signature program was that he'd been toying with the idea of setting DEx up as a distraction to save Adam from the inevitable attention.  Kris hadn't been planning any farther than that and it wasn't until he'd been able to stand on his own that he realized that he'd made a huge mistake.  Broadcasting DEx's involvement was risky at best.

"I'm glad you didn't," SYS said over Kris' increasingly bitter thoughts.  "But I had doubts until you and R started up this whole modeling thing."

"How does that work?" Kris demanded after a second of bewildered incomprehension.

"Simple," SYS said tartly.  "If you get your picture plastered all over billboards and magazines, then people will just think of you both as 'those model guys' or 'that guy from the Dorsett Gibson ads'.  No-one's going to think you're a serious data runner and no-one's ever going to believe the ‘Net's  most wanted volunteered to be under the public eye like that."

"Kinda like no-one believes that the associate professor with the corner office and three papers on the dangers of cyber-terrorism could be on the FBI's most wanted?" Kris asked.  He was feeling slow and stupid.  He'd never thought of that and after the disaster that was the last shoot, he'd been dreading the whole idea of trying to model.  He hadn't even thought about the security risks because he'd never thought Drey and Gee would use the photos. 

But SYS was making a lot of sense; the best place to hide was right in the open where no-one would look.  A few well-timed remote-activated attacks on corps while they were out and visible and SYS was right - no-one would ever believe the truth.

"Is Root still under?" SYS asked suddenly.

"Out cold," Kris confirmed.  "Well, he's smiling, I think."

"Probably doing something terrible to someone online," SYS sighed.  "I don't think he needs to know this."

"But I do?"

"It's about Killjoy," SYS said flatly and Kris closed his eyes.

"Fuck," Kris rubbed his face.  "All right, tell me."

"He's relapsed," SYS said quietly.  "It's...it's bad, H.  His apartment's been abandoned and he's not taking any legit jobs."

"Fuck," Kris scrubbed a hand through his hair.  "Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!"

Killjoy had been a solid mid-rank, hovering between a rank12 and a rank8 in the Iron Circle and from what Kris had gathered, he was mostly a good guy.  He worked clean, never cheated a contract and got the job done.  He was also one of the mercs who'd come of age during the late 20's when the third generation combat drugs had been new and shiny.  93.56% of mercs who'd started their career on the streets of San D between 2028 and 2033 had used the drugs.  81% had died from it.

Adam, Kris knew, looked at combat drugs with absolute contempt.  Combat drugs could make you faster, stronger, meaner and modulated doses could make an eighteen hour firefight as easy as an hour at the gym.  Adam compared the average user of street drugs to a guy juggling a half-dozen grenades in the middle of a firefight.  The right drugs could turn a featherweight kid into a serious opponent for a merc on Gee and Adam's level.  The wrong drugs could turn a healthy young merc into a drooling wreck or a barely contained killing machine that could only be stopped by a bullet through the head. 

The biggest danger didn't come from the immediate effects, though those kept C-SWAT and the suppression security forces in business.  The biggest danger with combat drugs was addiction.  The combat drugs had topped the Raifi Addiction Index for more than a decade.  Withdrawal made monsters out of mercs and turned ganglands into warzones.

Killjoy had been on four different drugs and starting the slow detox when Kris left San D.  He'd never directly asked Glitch how bad it got but there were clues in the way Glitch dodged around whenever Kris asked about the years between Choppah and Trojan.  Glitch had been so proud of Killjoy's increasing sobriety and even after coming to NYC, he'd never suggested it was anything but permanent.

"Is he using again?" Kris asked dully.

"All signs point to yes," SYS said quietly.  "His brother's body showed up in the lotto numbers and wasn't claimed.  I got someone to tip Momma off so he got burned at least." 

"That's not good," Kris remembered Killjoy's brother from the hazy days after he fried his own brain; quiet and unobtrusive but devoted to his brother.  The Zombies would give him a hell of a send-off.  Kris made a note to send a donation to cover the tab.  Glitch had said that - said that the whole team was tight.  Glitch hadn't known Killjoy’s brother was dead, Kris was sure and God on a fucking silicone slice but wasn't that going to be a lovely conversation to have!  "Killjoy and his brother were close."

"Not anymore," SYS said simply.  "R's going to pin this on himself, you know he is."

"I know," Kris sighed.  "Nothing he could have done, Val.  We're not God.  We're only as good as the local data connection."

"Would you care about that?" SYS asked.  "If it was your boy's kin?"

"No," Kris said.  "Anything else?"

"Nothing much," SYS' ikon touched one of Kris' floating windows and it filled with reports.  "He's not in the Gauntlet.  He's not in any of the flophouses that we know about it and his old dealers haven't seen him for weeks.  He's off-grid."

Unspoken but fully understood was the implication that Killjoy was probably already dead.  A body not claimed was probably already dissected and floating in the cryo-tanks of the local body bank.  Most of the 'Banks in San D weren't too picky about the paperwork so long as the body was fresh.  It was a miserable, lonely way to go and Kris sighed.

"Speaking of off the grid," he said, saving a copy of the reports for Glitch to read later.  "Any word on Crusader?"

"Nothing solid," SYS' ikon glowed red for a moment.  "Got some of the scum he used as flunkies as far from home as DC.  Unconfirmed sightings in Boston, Miami and Toronto but nothing I can confirm.  Guy's a fucking ghost.  It's like he's always one step ahead of us.  I've found five new life kits tapped out - the one in the airport was emptied twenty minutes before I cracked the security cameras for fuck's sake.  He's liquidated any reserves we know about and he's been buying new identities like vidchips."

"Any hits on those?" Kris asked because more than seven-eighths of the false identities created in California came from fixers affiliated with DEx or used their networks and pass codes.

"One or two," SYS said bitterly.  "One in South America and an hour later, a hit from the EuroDome.  Nothing I can confirm so I did a little old-fashioned detecting."

She sounded pleased and Kris looked over at her ikon.  Ikons didn't have facial expressions as such - even full-human ikons like they used had a solid mask set to a default pattern - but she looked slightly smug.

"Dazzle me with your brilliance then, Holmes," Kris teased.

"He's hunting you - or at least, based on everything we found before that merc kicked his door in," SYS sounded like she was frowning at that.  Kris resisted the urge to apologize; Adam had called in a favor with a friend and Kris hadn't been told.  "He's hunting your boy so he can hunt you down - so I started from you.  He had visas to the New Shore colonies, the Agri-Collectives and a green-stamped pass for NYC."

"Oh, did he now?" Kris scowled.

"Another interesting factoid," SYS continued.  "There are three new members of the Ring of Honor all of whom joined within the last month."

"Anything interesting?"

"None with a rep worth talking about.  Two of them are kids who've made it long enough in the biz to qualify.  One came in at rank 89," SYS' ikon bobbed her head as Kris' eyes narrowed. It was rare for any merc to join a Circle with a pre-assigned rank.  It took a serious amount of rep, backed up with even more serious amounts of cred to get off the bottom rung.  In a Circle like the Ring with two thousand active members, joining with a rank in double digits suggested an established and accomplished merc who should have had a national rep.  "Handle is listed as _Antioch_ , height, weight and cyber profile are a match for Crusader's most recent statistics and, get this, weapon of choice is listed as matched _Colt_ .44's with pearl inlay and a red cross."

"Crusader," Kris said flatly.  He remembered those guns intimately.  Crusader hadn't gotten a shot off at him back then but the guns were custom work, as much part of Crusader's persona as the silver-inlayed _Desert Eagle_ s were for Silverfyre.  If Antioch _wasn't_ Crusader, then Crusader would be coming looking for him to teach them a lesson. 

"Get a track on this guy," SYS seconded.  "And you'll find Crusader."

"Hold on, let me ping Glitch.  He's tinkering with the Ring's database," Kris' fingers flicked across the keys and Root's ikon popped up beside SYS'.

"Hey," Root's ikon waved.  "Remind me never to piss off your boy.  He's kinda scary when he's pissed."

"I could have told you that," Kris grinned.  "Listen, man, I need you to do something for me while you're in the database..."


	14. Chapter 14

Gravel scuffed behind him and Adam swung, fingers tightening before as he recognized David.  Only skill and experience stopped Adam from putting a bullet in his brother's heart.  Adam raised his guns until they pointed at the sky and took a breath, his own heart beating out a harsh staccato against his ribs. 

"That was so awesome," David was utterly oblivious of how close he came to death.  "Oh my God, that was so cool, the way you just stood there and took that shot. Bang, and the driver was dead just like that.  God, I bet that I couldn't even hit the car, I mean, wow, man, that was totally cool!"

"What the Hell did you think you were doing, just standing there in the middle of the road?" Adam shouted.

David deflated and Adam gathered the kid into a hug and let himself start to relax as his system neutralized the excess adrenaline.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?  This is a fully sanctioned Mercy training mission."

Adam pushed David behind him as he turned to look at the so-called trainer.

His inner-eye display flashed and there were lines of text scrolling across, the Helpers' icon flashing as they helpfully pulled up every detail on the trainer.

 

> STEPHEN JAMES MERCHANT; a.k.a. Ripperz.
> 
> Favored Weapons: 9 mil. _Colt Cruiser_ (double-barreled handgun, patent pending); Flechette rounds; Internal weaponry, Rippers (2x pairs);
> 
> History: Mercy (8 Months: Training Supervisor - New York City Corporate Compound); Fortress (24 months: Security Consultant - San Diego Compound 6E);  Private Mercenary (5 Years - San Diego; Los Angeles; San Francisco)

 

Adam blinked the display away.  Hijack's Little Helpers were amazing.  The amount of information they could put at his fingertips was staggering.  Everything he ever needed to know, and a hell of a lot that he didn't, was right there at the flick of an eye.  Ripperz was West Coast trash so chances were good that he knew Silverfyre.  Adam could use that to his advantage.  No introductions, no reputation trading, just good old fashioned intimidation.

"I'm the one who saved your ass," Adam's voice was hard as titanium, "while you were running for cover."

The trainer didn't answer, ignoring Adam.  David started to step out from behind him but Adam stopped him with a look.

"Why the Hell have you dragged these kids out into the Merc District with pea shooters and armor that doesn't stand even half a chance of stopping a cold?" Adam asked.  "It's obvious that you don't care whether they live or die, so what's the objective?"

The trainer looked over at him, "Survival!"

Adam took a step closer, his targeting scopes lighting up as his anger rose. 

"You think you can do better, go ahead," the trainer held his arms out, giving him a mocking bow.

Adam smiled, letting a hint of his predator nature shine through.  The trainer backed up so fast that he nearly tripped over his own feet.

"Well," Adam inclined his head, "if you insist."

Adam beckoned the kids closer.  He didn't miss the way that the kid who David had tried to pull out of the path of the oncoming car tucked in tight behind David.  He'd ask David about him later, but for now, he needed to figure out what they knew, or more importantly, what they didn't.

He gestured to David and his friend to the front and directed them down another street, away from the crash site.  Adam retrieved his bike and followed them.  There was a rundown lot halfway down the street and Adam shuffled the kids in there, parking his bike on a flat patch of ground just off to the side of the lot.

Adam looked them over, trying to figure out where to start.  There were so many things they needed to know but Adam didn’t have the time to teach them even a fraction of the skills they’d need.  He could get them thinking though.  He could give them the building blocks.  What they did with them afterwards was down to them, but for David...  It was a test, and one that Adam needed to give his brother.

"Call me Silverfyre.  I’ve been working the San D streets for the last ten years.  Learned a lot of lessons during my years.  Biggest one is that there are four things every merc needs when they hit the streets," Adam started.  "Who can tell me what they are?"

The kids looked at the ground, shuffling from foot to foot.  One of them even pulled a notebook from his pocket and started flicking through the pages.

"Um, Mister Silverfyre, sir?" the kid spoke up, "they only told us two things.  Guns and armor.  What are the other two?"

"Anyone have any ideas?" Adam looked around, but blank faces that looked back at him.  "Okay, let's talk about guns and armor for a second, first.  Why are they so important?  And which is most important?"

"Guns," was the predominant answer but David and his friend called out "Armor". Adam smiled.  Maybe there was hope for David after all.

Adam looked at David's friend, "What's your name, kid?"

"Noah," he stopped, biting his lip, "um, I mean, Paladin."

"A real white knight?" Adam joked and the kid blushed.  "You said armor.  Everyone else said guns.  Why do you think that armor is more important than guns?"

"Um," Noah shrugged, "It helps you stay alive?"

Adam grinned, "It does, but only if it's good armor.  I want you all to look at Ripperz' armor.  Ripperz has standard issue corporate armor, one size fits all.  It's theoretically rated up to .50 caliber bullets.  Now look at mine.  My armor is a custom Dorsett Gibson, designed to fit the San Diego merc environment."

Ripperz folded his arms, scowling while Adam held his arms out, showing off his custom street armor.  A mental command sent via his in-built phone splice lit up the light panels and smiled as the kids’ eyes went wide.  He was curious to see what the kids said.  Just how far had Mercy managed to brainwash them?  The kids circled him, peering curiously at him.  Adam shifted to keep them in his field of vision; he wasn’t stupid enough to trust any of these kids at his back. 

"Armor stands between you and a bullet," Adam explained.  "You can be the best shot in the world but if you get hit, then you're dead.  You're an easy target and when you're on the street, the guys on the other side of the line will take every opportunity you give them.  Don't roll your eyes, you'll do the exact same when you're out there, otherwise you are dead."

Someone laughed behind him and Adam swung to face the teenager.  The kid looked like a quarterback, all muscles and sneer.  He had the puffed up look that came from artificial enhancement.  It wasn't the route that Adam had taken but he knew why Mercy pushed the kid down that path.  Nano-steroids gave quick results, making you stronger and tougher but there was a price.  Unaugmented bones couldn't hold the sheer muscle mass and crumbled under the pressure.  Even if you had the skeletal upgrade, heart problems were also common, but with Mercy's reputation, Adam doubted that the quarterback would live long enough for the nanites to be a problem.

"You think this is funny, kid?" Adam crowded into the quarterback's personal space.  "It's your funeral.  I'm only here because I don't want my brother becoming road kill.  Listen, don't listen.  I don't give a shit but I didn't see you doing anything to stop that car.  You just stood there watching.  You didn't even try to shoot."

"Lucky shot," the quarterback fired back.

Adam's lips quirked up.  "Wanna bet?"

"Sure," the quarterback answered cockily.

"How much?" Adam asked, watching the quarterback carefully.

The guy was a perfect fit for Mercy, all overconfident swagger and nothing but muscle to back it up.  It was a fool bet, and Adam wanted to see just how far the quarterback was going to take it.

"What?" the quarterback asked, frowning.

"I don't make bets just for the sake of a bet.  How much are you willing to put down?  And I don't take IOU's," Adam let just a hint of Silverfyre through in his smile.  "Especially from punks I don't think will be alive long enough for me to collect."

Adam saw the quarterback's nostrils flare and the pulse point in his throat jump.  Anger was flooding the quarterback's system with all those wonderful little chemicals that came with it.  The nano-steroids would be working overtime in about ten seconds, stamping down on whatever measure of rationality the quarterback usually had.  Adam slid a hand into his pocket, to the medkit that he kept there and flicked it open.  He knew all the patches by touch and easily drew out a midsized clear plastic patch that was specifically designed for situations like this.  He palmed it and stood ready, relaxed.

The quarterback charged him, lumbering and slow, and threw a punch that would have broken Adam's jaw...  Adam peeled the patch in a practiced move and ducked under the roundhouse punch.  Slapping the patch on the back of the kid's neck, Adam was done before he even realized that Adam was behind him.  The kid swung again, but Adam danced out of the way easily.  He didn't strike out at the kid, that would have been unfair, and landing the quarterback on his ass in front of the group would likely lead to nasty consequences for David, something else he didn't want.

The quarterback stumbled to a stop.  Adam stopped just outside his reach.  It looked like the patch had kicked in.  The quarterback swayed, blinking at the people around him before turning to the side and throwing up.  Adam tossed a credchip with a few bucks on it to one of the other kids.

"Go to the store on the corner, grab a crate of water and some gum."

The kid vanished, another kid following without Adam needing to say a word.  Adam turned his attention to the quarterback, rubbing his back as he hocked and spat on the ground, the retching already over.  He tried to shrug Adam's hand away but Adam ignored him.

"Take some deep breaths," Adam advised.  "That patch is nasty but you'll feel better in a minute."

A few minutes later, the quarterback stood, still breathing deeply and glaring at Adam.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked.

Adam turned to look at the kids, "Anyone know?"

Noah was the first to speak, "Um, I'm gonna guess a crash-patch?"

Adam nodded, "Yeah, that's right, Noah.  Good guess.  The crash-patch is designed to strip excess adrenaline out of the system.  This guy here is on a course of nano-steroids and one of the side effects is that, if you don't moderate your moods, anger leads to the steroids dumping adrenaline straight into your system and hyping you up."  There were still a few blank faces, so Adam explained, "It's like this.  Everyone has a flight or fight reflex.  It's that feeling you get when you're suddenly faced with a situation like the one we had out on the street.  Your body and your subconscious weighs up the risk and then tells you what it thinks you should do.  Nine times out of ten, it's saying that you should run away, but when you're eighteen you're not very good at listening to that tiny voice at the back of your mind," Adam smiled.  "Trust me.  I know.  I've been where you are.  It says run but the rest of you is thinking that you can take whatever it is. We can usually override whatever it says, but with nano-steroids, the switch gets turned to fight.  That's why he tried to attack me.  It was the only logical thing that he could do according to his programming."  Adam turned to the quarterback, who was grumbling something under his breath, "Don't worry, kid, I don't hold it against you.  I knew that goading you would end up in a fight.  Take this as a lesson to keep your emotions in check."

The quarterback nodded and looked a little ashamed.  Adam patted the kid on the back one last time and when the kids returned from the store, Adam handed him the first bottle of water. 

"Sorry about that, QB," Adam said softly.  "It doesn't always hit that hard, but I'd guess that you've been running an adrenaline edge for a few days.  You might wanna get a street doc to check you over, make sure that your levels are right.  And watch your vitamin levels for the next couple of days.  New cyberware, even nanites, can be hard to regulate for the first month."

The kid nodded and then frowned, "QB?  What's that?"

Adam smirked, "Your new handle.  Short for Quarterback."

The kid nodded, "Beats the shit out of my old one."

Adam’s eyebrow rose in question and QB mumbled one, “Slug.”

Adam bit back a smile and turned back to the group.  Noah and David were close beside him, listening in and Adam rolled his eyes.

"Okay, so we covered the two fundamentals.  Armor and weapons, and I just gave you a demonstration of the third.  Anyone want to take a guess what it is?"

"Sneakiness."

"Drugs?"

"Hacking our personnel files?"

"Moving fast."

The answers came thick and fast but none of them were what Adam wanted to hear.  He had to admire the girl who answered 'hacking our personnel files'.  The Helpers probably had, but Adam hadn't looked at the information.  He didn't need to.  He could read each and every one of the kids in front of him like they were an unlocked PADD.

"There were some good guesses in there, but you're all overcomplicating things," Adam finally cut in, holding his hands out until the kids quietened down.  "It's simple and I guarantee that every one of you will kick yourselves for not thinking of it."  He paused dramatically, waiting until he had every one of them looking at him and hardly daring to breathe, "A working brain."

They frowned at him, David more than the others.  Noah was nodding beside him, one step away from whacking himself upside the head for not getting it. 

"You need to think.  You need to watch everything that's happening around you.  You need to know what you're seeing.  You need to _think_ ," Adam stressed.  "At the moment, each one of you is telegraphing every thought going through your heads.  It's in the way you move.  That needs to stop.  You need to stop thinking about what you're going to do and just do it.  When your trainers haul you onto the mats to practice, remember that.  Practice watching your opponent.  Try to work out are they about to punch you?  Are they about to kick?  Are they about to pull their gun?  Watch their faces, watch their bodies, watch everything and try to hide what you're about to do." 

Adam remembered his own teachers, mercs who'd been on the streets for only a little longer than he had, but ones who had learned the tricks that it took to survive.  They'd been brutal with him, and it had worked better than anything else.  He'd staggered home battered and bruised more times that he could count, but even now, over ten years later, it was still those same lessons that he fell back on every day.

Adam sighed, "I'd love to tell you kids that there's an easy way to get it right, but there isn't.  It's practice and it's hard work, but you'll get there.  See if your trainers will get you onto some martial arts.  QB over there threw big punches that came from his shoulders.  If you're watching, you can see what's coming, and from there, it's easy to dodge." 

Adam looked around the empty lot.  It was covered in a carpet of weeds and moss, not ideal but it would do for now.  There was a large, old-style, wooden sign at the back of the lot, peeling and broken, but it would serve for a makeshift range.  Adam ran to it, jumping and using whatever he could to bounce up until he could see behind it.  A half demolished brick wall and another alleyway, blocked off at one end and crowded with uncollected rubbish.  It wasn't likely that anyone would come down that alley.  It was perfect.

"Okay," Adam called out as he jogged back, "split into two groups." 

They did, but there was a fair amount of jostling and elbowing as they did.

"The first group are going to practice fighting," Adam pointed to the group on his left.  "I want you in groups of two and I want you to work on what I said.  Try to figure out what your opponent is about to do and dodge.  You don't have to do anything fancy, just get into the habit of trying to anticipate."

He turned to the second group and smiled, "You guys are going to be shooting at targets."

There was a low groan from some of them, including Noah, but David seemed to be genuinely excited.  Adam was curious to see how David did with a gun.  So far, his brother had yet to impress him, but if he was a good shot...  Adam mentally shrugged.  He still wanted his brother away from Mercy.

Adam lined them up with targets and stood back, watching their form and stance.  Simply put, it was terrible and Adam couldn't help but wonder how the Hell they'd gotten as far as they had.  The fighters were getting on better, throwing punches and kicks, dodging over sweeps and trying to block whatever came their way.  There was a kid there who reminded Adam a little of Kris, small and wiry, but deadly because he was easily underestimated.  When Adam turned back to the second group, he couldn't hold back the yell.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?"

The stupid idiot who’d just scratched his head with a loaded gun jumped and shuffled backwards as quick as Adam stalked forward.  Adam held out his hand and the idiot handed over his gun.  Adam did a quick check.  The safety was off and there was enough dirt ground into the handgun's grip that Adam could tell that it had never been on.  Adam safed it quickly and put a hand to his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"Never, never scratch your head with a gun," Adam's voice was low, but it carried easily.  "It doesn't matter what size the gun is, whether it's loaded or not, or if it's loaded with blanks.  Never, ever point it at yourself.  Never shove it down your pants either, not unless you're not attached to whatever it is you keep down there.  It's not _cool_.  It doesn’t look _dangerous_.  It's just stupid."

Adam caught a glance at Ripperz, who was leaning back against a fence post, a cigar hanging out of his mouth and the asshole shrugged at Adam.  Adam wanted to punch the guy, but that wouldn't accomplish anything so instead he looked around at the faces watching him with wide eyes.  In that instant, Adam could see how easy it had been for Mercy to get these kids to stick their thumbprint at the bottom of the PADD.  A little praise, a little attention, a hint of danger and they would do anything.

"A gun is a dangerous weapon," Adam raised his voice a little as the first group turned to see what was happening.  "It has the potential to kill you.  It doesn't care if you were the one who bought it.  It doesn't care how much you paid.  If you treat it badly, you _will_ shoot yourself and it won't feel bad about it.  You'll be in the hospital, paying through the ass to get a doc to patch you up and find you some good quality replacement parts and it'll be in someone else's hands, doing the exact same thing to them."

There were snorts of laughter at that and Adam looked at the gun, really looked at the gun.  It was an old model _Glock_ 65, modified a little and second hand, Adam would guess.  The serial number was filed off and scratched over.  He knew the stats on it, but he was betting that the kid didn't.

"If you're going out onto the street, you have got to know your weapons," Adam started, addressing everyone but then turning to look at the kid who owned the gun.  "What's the pull on the trigger?  How many rounds is it carrying?  Is there a round chambered?”  The kid looked blank and Adam sighed, "Let's start easier.  What make and model is it?"

The kid answered with a smirk, "It's a handgun."

Adam fought the urge to just shoot the kid and put him out of his misery.  With an attitude like that, it wouldn’t be long before someone else did it for him.

"How many shots have you fired?" Adam asked, slowly so that the kid could understand the question.

"Four," the idiot answered, "Maybe five?" Another pause as he thought, miming the action, "or six.  No more than seven anyway."

Adam pushed his hair back from his face, as he waited to see if the kid had any advances on seven.  When he finished thinking and finally looked up at Adam, Adam sighed again.  Without warning, Adam raised his arm and, without looking, fired the gun three times.  It was a little more sluggish than his own guns but it was functional.

He watched them for another moment before turning to face the gun's owner, "What you have here is a modified _Glock_ 65, with a twelve bullet magazine.  It's got a one round per second rate of fire as standard, but yours has a fully automatic setting which will empty the clip in about three point five seconds.  Before you ask, no, I will not tell you how to turn it to fully automatic because I think that you will use it to blow your brains out by accident, not that you have that many to start with," Adam remarked.  "It takes, at a rough guess, two point seven pounds of pressure to pull the trigger, which is a lot less than the standard four point five of this gun's factory model counterpart.  That means that it's got a light trigger and it takes a lot less effort to fire this gun than you think it does.  It's got a bit of a kick but that's to be expected.  It takes .45 bullets instead of the standard 9 mil offerings and has been adapted to fit different ammo types.  Again, no, I'm not telling you which ones but I'd suggest that you not play around with it to find out.  If you try loading the wrong ones, the barrel will explode and take your hand with it."

Adam had never been that dumb.  Never. Not when he was starting out at fifteen and not even when he'd been blinded by grief.  These kids would have to get a lot better or they'd be dead long before Mercy sent them on their first mission.

"He hit the target," one of the kids said, his voice an interesting mix of Texas twang and East Coast drawl. 

"Well, yeah," David answered before Adam could, "We can see that, Rex."

"No," Rex was pointing now, his voice rising, "I mean...  He hit Cobra's target.  Dead center.  Without looking."

Cobra, as the idiot was apparently known, - who named these kids anyway - walked over to check. His eyes widened as he pointed out three holes, all bang in the center of the target.  Twenty feet away, with no wind and a half-way decent gun; if Adam hadn’t been able to hit that, well, he would have hung up his guns for good and gone to sit on a porch somewhere with nothing but a shawl and a shotgun.

Adam coughed pointedly, sending them back to practice.  Adam walked the line giving pointers that were received like the pure truth of God. After half an hour, they were significantly better shots than they had been before Adam had met them.  Adam spent a little more time with David than he did the others, giving him tips and tricks that would help him on missions like this and make him the best in his class. If David was smart, he'd trade one or two of the tips for favors during training, but keep most of them to himself.  He was a little trigger-happy for Adam's liking, but he had potential.  With a little training, he might actually make it.

Adam had the groups swap and did the same for the new group, walking up and down and giving lessons and demonstrations while the other group fought.  Adam watched David fight Noah when he had a moment and wasn't surprised to see Noah cotton on to David's moves almost faster than David could make them.  It was good to see and even better when Noah started teaching David how to cover his actions.  They made a good team, he had to admit.

His phone beeped as Adam was helping QB refining his stance. Adam flicked up the message.  Glitch had found a location for him, a hell of a lot earlier than the twenty minutes before the Open House that he’d predicted. Adam smiled and QB shivered a little.

Adam whistled, "Okay kids, you did good.  I gotta head off.  Gotta little business to take care of."

"Can't we come too?" Noah asked.

Adam was drowning in puppy dog whines before he could come up with a good reason why they couldn't.

Holding up his hands, Adam capitulated, "Fine.  But you do what I say.  Got that?"

They nodded eagerly.  These kids, like it or not, were the next generation of The Ring of Honor and if Ringmaster gave into his baser instincts, well, it would be all round the corp zone within minutes, backed up by vidfeeds and badly spelt text messages.  Plus, it wouldn’t hurt to introduce the kids to real mercs.  It might give them some idea of what to aim for.

Adam checked the location.  It was only a couple of blocks away, easily in walking distance even for these hyperactive kids.  Adam took a second to engage the security protocols on his bike, watching as the shields slid into place and locked down.

"Right, guys.  Follow me."

Adam led them down the street, using it as an opportunity to point out everything that they had missed when they were doing their once through.  Sniper positions, shady windows that were perfect for a shooter to set up, blind alleys and mercs half-hidden in doorways.  He showed them a world they hadn't ever noticed before.  He wanted them thinking.  He wanted them sharp.

Glitch's address led Adam to a run-down, busted-up bar that fitted perfectly into the seedier side of the  Merc District.  It was the sort of place that you didn't look twice at, but today, it also was the head quarters of The Ring of Honor.

"Stay behind me," Adam warned the kids, "Keep your eyes open and keep your hands away from your guns.  There's going to be some pretty well known mercs in there and they're not going to think twice about killing you if they think you're going to draw on them."

Noah stepped up, David beside him and before Adam could say anything further, Noah started issuing orders, finger pointing at the kids as he did, "Flanking rotation, you four to the left, you four to the right.  We're going to be behind Silverfyre with another team of four.  That leaves two teams of three to the left and right of the main door, securing the exit."

Adam was surprised.  Noah was stepping up and with David behind him, it was hard to argue with him, and the rest of the kids fell into their groups.  Adam double-checked Noah’s positioning.  It was rudimentary but solid.  He waited for the kids to take their places and do a last check on their weapons before Adam pushed open the door and stepped inside.

The bar was as dingy inside as it was outside.  Dull and with a thick cloud of smoke hovering around the ceiling, the place looked grey and dirty.  Adam's eyes compensated for the light levels with a thought, casting everything with a telltale greenish tinge as the light amplifiers kicked in. He looked around, aware of the kids behind him.  The tables and bar stools were filled with the usual working mercs that hung around places like this, watching and waiting for jobs to roll their way.  They wouldn't get any, but they were being seen and that was good enough for them.  Adam had done his time in dives like this one, taking advantage of the sanctuary rule.  You couldn't be hit if the top tier was sitting right behind you, right in the firing line.  Even the dumbest merc didn’t make that mistake twice.  Adam wasn't active anymore and even if he had been, the Ring had stepped over the line.  Rules were for people who didn't know Ringmaster’s deep, dark secrets.

In the middle of the wannabe mercs, mixed in and angry, were several of NYC's elites, killing time until Ringmaster opened the meeting.  High class armor and bristling weapons set them apart from the regulars and they looked pissed.  They stood in small groups, eyeing each other and fondling their guns every time someone looked at them.  They were bustling around, waiting for their audience and Adam followed their heated glares to a small booth.  Ringmaster was sitting at the back of the room, his goons flanking him in a protective formation, and watching everyone who came in as he tapped away at a virtual keyboard.  Adam could tell the exact moment that Ringmaster recognized him.  He called one of his goons close, but the kids gave him pause.  Adam stepped forward, making no effort to tone down the gloss of Silverfyre. He heard David and Noah keeping pace, Noah keeping up a steady stream of quiet commands to the four others with them.

"Ringmaster," Adam called out, "We need to talk."

Ringmaster pushed himself to his feet and flicking his armored coat back to uncover his own guns, heavily modified _Colt Hellbringers_.  The machine pistols were finished in chrome and there was just enough light in the bar to give them the glint that Ringmaster hoped for.  Adam didn't even blink, just kept looking Ringmaster in the eye.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Ringermaster's nasal whine echoed through the suddenly quiet bar.

The only sound came from the shuffling of the kids' feet as they moved into position. Veterans at the bar and newbloods on the floor looked on, hands hovering over their guns and Adam took advantage of the silence.

"You're right," Adam hooked his thumbs in his belt loops.  "There is nothing that you could say that I want to hear.  But if I have to come back here and deliver my message again, there's going to be blood.  You got me?"

Ringmaster rolled his eyes and one of his goons stepped forward but Adam was faster.  Before the goon could finish the first word, Adam's knife was at his throat.  The etched, black glass, diamond-edged blade was a custom design.  It could cut through anything, professionally honed and polished until it was no more than a molecule thick at the very edge.  Adam pressed it against the goon's throat, a drop of blood trailing down his neck to soak into his armored t-shirt.  The goon shivered and Adam clucked his tongue.

"I'd keep really still, if I were you."

The goon started to nod, but stopped himself in time, locking his muscles down.  When he was sure that the goon would be no more trouble, Adam stepped back, pushing the goon away as he moved.  The goon’s hand flew to his throat immediately, and Adam could see the relief that washed over him as he realized that it was only a nick.

Ringmaster's hands hovered over his Hellbringers and Adam smiled viciously, "Try it, Ringmaster. I dare you. By the time your guns clear their holsters, you'll have a knife in your heart."

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind him, Noah judging by the sound, but Adam didn't let his eyes move even a millimeter from Ringmaster.  Desperation made a man do stupid things and made a stupid man do the downright insane.  Adam flexed his fingers, making sure that he was ready if he needed to move.

Ringmaster's eyes took in the room and the faces of the mercs who were looking on, watching and waiting to see which way the conflict was going to go.  NYC mercs were loyal to nothing but money and self-interest. Adam was counting on it.

"You want a bite of the Big Apple, 'Fyre?" Ringmaster's voice echoed around the room, raising murmured whispers in its wake.  "This your anti-retirement stunt?  It's good, as far as it goes, I suppose. I gotta penalize you for pulling a weapon in a sanctuary but I'm sure we can work something out if you let me know who told you where the Open House was today."

Adam barked a laugh, "You never change, do you... _Ringmaster_?  Gotta admit, that name's a step up.  Tell me, does anyone here know exactly why you hauled your ass all the over to NYC?"

Ringmaster went pale, his eyes narrowing.  There were rules, and Adam was stamping all over them in his glossy black combat boots.  This was the fucker in charge of the Ring of Honor.  This was the fucker who had sanctioned a hit on Gee.  This was the fucker who had injured Kris, directly or indirectly, and Adam didn't care a single iota for his feelings or his reputation.  Back in San D, Sabrian had been a snot nosed, second rate merc who didn't care about collateral damage.  Some things never changed, but if Adam got his way and he was going to, there were going to be some radical reforms in the Ring.

"Ringmaster has always been based in NYC," one of the goons growled.

" _Ringmaster_ has, but what about...?"

Ringmaster cut in, stopping Adam from finishing, "Alright, 'Fyre, what do you want?"

"Let's start off simple," Adam smiled, "Reintroduce the rules on Non-Sanctioned Targets.  You hit people other than the target, you get negative points.  You're culpable for any damages, hospital bills, et cetera, and if you can't cover it, the Ring covers the costs and they come to an agreement with the idiot in question.  Same as they do it on the West Coast.  Don't see why the East Coast rules should be any different, do you?"

Ringmaster listened.

"That's the non-negotiable one.  One of your idiots wandered their little ass into a Dorsett Gibson fashion shoot yesterday and threw a 'non-lethal' grenade into the middle of the shoot in an attempt to execute her hit on Viking, Sven Gibson.  Or at least, it's non-lethal if you're a merc and not allergic to the chemicals in it," Adam let his eyes go dark,  "It's widely known that Andre Dorsett is a close friend of mine and he's had his entire catalogue ruined.  Something just shy of three million, according to the insurance claim, when you factor in the equipment.  I don't see why he should be out of pocket just because one of your idiots decided to go for the nuclear option."

Adam paused to let that sink in.  Three million would hit the bank accounts of the Ring hard.  It wouldn't be a wipe out, but all the pretty, shiny guns would have to wait for the next round of membership dues.

"You're retired," Ringmaster sneered at Adam, "You don't have any right to barge in here and tell us what rules we have to change.  I wrote up the rules and dumped the ones that the Iron Circle introduced to make people like you happy. The Ring isn't a safe place.  You put yourself on the list, you have to expect to get hit.  You, your family, your friends.  This isn't the picnic that you had back in San D, 'Fyre.  This is life.  This is war.  You want to sign up again, maybe I'll listen.  We can fight it out the old-fashioned way.  I'll take your contract and if you win, maybe we'll think about changing the rules."

Adam made a show of examining his nails, waiting for Ringmaster to finish. 

"Gibson didn't put himself on the list," Adam said mildly, "but you hit him anyway.  But that's not the important point.  We'll come back to that.  Yesterday's hit did more than ruin some equipment and some clothes." Adam took a step forward, and then another until he was in Ringmaster's face.  "Yesterday's hit landed my boy in the ER.  The idiot that made the hit didn't bother to check the files of anyone else apart from her target and that meant that my boy was Med-E-Vaced to the nearest ER while they tried to keep him alive and breathing.  Clothes and equipment can be replaced.  My boy can't!"

Ringmaster sneered, “So pickup another one.  Not like NYC isn’t full of pretty pieces eager to hang off the arm of anyone with a flash of cash.”

Adam slammed the knife down, blade first, into the table a hairsbreadth from Ringermaster's right trigger finger.  Ringmaster drew back his hand in an instant, holding it to his chest as his breath stuttered and caught.

“I’m not looking to trade down, Ringmaster.  One of your little wannabe’s almost killed my boy yesterday and that’s not the sort of thing that I forgive.” 

Ringmaster sagged a fraction, catching himself on the table.

"Okay, alright," Ringmaster held his hands up, "You've got a legitimate grievance.  We'll bring it up at the next senior council and discuss the changes you suggested."

"Not good enough."

"I can't just..."

A flash of movement caught Adam’s eye and he pulled a gun, livewires snapping in loud against the silence in the bar.  He didn’t look around, the targeting scope giving him every detail he needed.

“Stay where you are, sweetheart.  This is your fuck-up.  Might as well stay a while and listen in.  I’m imagining that Ringmaster is gonna want a few words with you when I’m done.”

The woman held up her hands, slumping into a chair at the bar and some of the kids moved to block her clear run at the door.

“I…” Ringmaster started.

Adam cut him off with a glare, "I said it's non-negotiable." Adam's voice dropped to the barest whisper as he leaned in.  "Let me explain something to you, _Ringmaster_.  There is nothing in this world that I won't do to keep my boy safe, and if that means taking out you and your entire Ring, I will do it and you'll never see it coming.  I'll start by leaking some very special footage out into the merc circles, you remember the footage that I'm talking about.  The Kensi Towers job?  Don't think that it hasn't occurred to me that I should have just let you fall that night.  You owe me, Sabrian."

The last word was low enough that only Ringmaster could hear it and Adam watched the man go grey, swallowing slickly.

"Alright," Ringmaster held up his hand, "Alright, you got it.  We'll put that rule back in."

"You come near me and mine again and you won't live through our next conversation.  You got me?"

Ringmaster nodded. 

"You might also want to cut Gee free.  Not sure you guys could survive a pissed off Viking making his NYC debut," Adam grinned.  "But that's up to you."

Ringmaster nodded and Adam watched him carefully. He'd agreed too easily. Sabrian hadn't exactly stuck by his word in the past and Adam couldn't risk him welching out of this agreement. With a flick of his eye, he sent a message to the Helpers. The icon flashed green a second later and Adam smiled. A second after that, there was another icon to the left of the Helper's icon, a smiling jack-o’-lantern that looked almost identical to one of Glitch’s tats. Adam's smile took a vicious turn. Glitch was logged on and monitoring..

"Just one more thing, Ringmaster. Something to keep in mind, should you think that you can just go back on your word. Everyone here heard what you promised. Everyone here was listening. But just in case," Adam smiled, leaning in to close those last few inches. "I had some friends of mine look in, just to keep you honest. Think about this before your next council meeting. Think very carefully."

Adam snapped his fingers and the room went dark.  Faint strands of sunlight sneaking in under the door were the only light.  The bar's patrons swore as the man behind the bar cursed.  The vidscreens above the bar, which had been tuned to the latest news and merc channels, fizzled back to life.  There was a single line of text scrolling across the screen, just three letters over and over, slowly filling the black screen.  Down and down they went, until the covered the screen, every screen.  Then with a flash, a logo appeared that had the assembled mercs fade into a shocked silence.  Eyes behind the code, eyes that tracked and watched and brought corporation's down.

It was an old symbol, more than five years old.  But they remembered it.  It was burned into the collective consciousness of the world.

DEx.

Ringmaster – Sabrian – scrambled back in his seat, away from Adam, his eyes never leaving the display, flicking from one screen to the other.

"I'm sure I've made my point," Adam smiled, looking over his shoulder to David and Noah.  "We're done here.  Round up your troops.  We're leaving."

Noah whistled as Adam turned on his heel.  He paused in the doorway and clicked his fingers again. The screens returned to normal.  There was an explosion of sound as Adam stepped through the door. The Helpers transcribed the conversations, the text filling up his inner eye display.  Adam didn't read it, didn't need to.  He minimized the text quickly and counted the kids in front of him.  Twenty.  They could go.

Adam led them back to the vacant lot.  Their trainer trailed along behind, his eyes never leaving Adam.  Noah flanked Adam to the left and David on the right.  The rest of the kids fell into a standard Mercy patrol pattern.  No doubt it had been drilled into the new recruits and to their credit they were executing it well.  It wasn't their fault that the standard Mercy pattern was utterly stupid.

Adam beckoned Noah closer, pointing out the small corrections necessary to tighten his group into a cohesive unit.  As much as Adam would like to see David taking the lead, that just wasn't going to happen.  Heroes didn't always win and survival could come at a damned high cost.  Noah got that.  He had learned it somewhere between life and the street, and he was doing what he needed to survive, just like Adam had. 

The thought hit him like a. 50 cal. 

Noah and David. 

Silverfyre and Ironside. 

Adam and Neil. 

Adam blinked, covering a stumble by turning to look at the kids behind him. David looked over at him, a question clear on his face but Adam didn't answer, couldn't. Not yet. Not here. Not ever maybe. He was spared from his brother's inept fumbling by Noah.

"Alpha team, closer to my twelve, no more than ten feet forward of my position," Noah called out, crisp and clear.  "Beta team, flank at my eight.  Charlie, flank on my four.  Guns up and ready.  Delta team, split and work scout and drag, fifty feet and keep your comms open."

"Keep your eyes open as well," Adam instructed.

There was nothing out there - it was still hours until mercs came out to play - but better to keep them sharp.  Looking at their surroundings, watching for the minute signs; a flash of light off the lens of a sniper scope; a tramp wearing top class combat boots, dirty in all the wrong places; a dilapidated car making clean, fresh purrs.

Arriving back at the lot, Adam sent a command to his bike.  The Helpers had already confirmed that Mercy were inbound to pick up their new recruits.  The armored plates slid back, folding and melting away into the frame, and Adam kicked his leg over the bike.

"You're going?" David asked, lower lip starting to creep forward into a pout.

"Yeah," Adam nodded, "but I'll be checking in on you guys again soon."

David smiled, standing straighter.  Ripperz looked less than pleased, stepping away to speak into a radio.  Adam could hear the sound of heavy vehicles trundling down the street towards them.  His hand found his guns, the connectors snaking out and clicking in just as the first of the heavy transports rounded the corner.  They were black, like so many corporate transports were, but on the side, Adam could see the bloody red logo of the Mercy corporation.  Ripperz called out to the kids, getting them to stand together, ready to head back to the compound. 

Adam watched, not letting the worry that he felt filter through onto his face as heavily armored and armed guards stepped out of the transports and herded the kids in.  David turned back, throwing his arms around Adam in a quick hug before speeding back to the transport and stepping up.  Adam watched him go, waving a hand at him just before he ducked inside. 

Before the door could close, David's head popped out again, "Hey 'Fyre, you never said.  What's the fourth thing?"

Adam frowned, "The what?"

"You said that it took four things to be a good merc: Guns, armor, a working brain, but you never told us the fourth."

Adam laughed, smiling at his brother.  The windows of both transports were filled with eager faces, waiting for his answer and Adam couldn't leave them hanging.

"Luck," he called over.  "The last one is luck.  With a little luck on your side, there's nothing you can't do."

David nodded and ducked back in.  Adam found Ripperz and locked his eyes with the trainer.  There was a promise in that look.  Pain and death and something darker hung in the air, and Ripperz looked down.

Adam kicked his bike to life and gave the transports a final wave before turning the bike towards home and leaving Mercy and the streets behind, the needle already hitting the red and soaring on.


	15. Chapter 15

"Face it, sweets, the problem is that fashion's boring!"

"Wow, Cheeks," Kris leaned on the table, moving aside the stack of fabric and papers.  "Tell us what you really think, why don't you?"

"As if I ever do anything else," Cheeks snorted.  He was leafing through _NYC:Man-i-fest_ or at least the three pages of the magazine that were focused on Dorsett Gibson's disastrous first shoot.  As Kris understood it, there had been just enough 'decent' photos to meet the submission requirements but the photographer had been outraged at the idea that an extreme allergic reaction in the lead model was grounds to cancel the shoot.  Gee had already informed Kris that they wouldn't be working with "that diva" again.

Kris had been astonished to find that the photos had already been published.  It had only been a week since the shoot but apparently, in the modern fashion world, a week was considered plenty of time to approve photos and work them into the set-up for a magazine.

"Well, yes," Cheeks said.  "Of course they don't need a lot of prep time - everyone in here looks identical.  They're all the same weird triangle-person!"

Glitch looked up from where he was poking through a stack of discarded sketches.  "They really are.  I mean, you could practically build a model from spare parts these days."

"You do remember that _you_ are now a model?"  Kris asked dryly.

"Not by industry standards, I'm not."  Glitch grinned at him.  He was still a little quieter than normal but he was already starting to bounce back from the belated wake he’d held for Killjoy and his old team.  Kris was going to have to replace Adam’s vodka eventually but Glitch had a stupidly high alcohol tolerance when he was miserable and Kris hadn’t exactly been able to run to the store to restock.

"A gimmick model is still a model," Kris was in a prickly mood.  He'd spent the week getting over the damn NOK-out and he still felt itchy, days after the rash vanished.  He hadn't even left the apartment because Adam was worried about him and big, sad blue eyes were apparently all it took for Kris to fold like a bad poker hand.  One of these days, a near-miss like that wasn't going to put shadows of Trojan in Adam's eyes and Kris wasn't going to agree to everything Adam wanted just to ease the guilt; it wasn't like Kris didn't know why Adam was so over-protective but even understanding why didn't make his voluntary captivity any easier to bear.  By the third day, Kris had felt _fine_ and he'd been climbing the walls ever since.

Still, Drey had called Adam to 'remind' him that Kris and Glitch were needed for a meeting to plan the next shoot.  Gee had already set the limits; nothing outside the city, nothing outdoors and nowhere public.  The Ring of Honor claimed that Gee's status had been 'corrected' but neither of the over-protective mercs was willing to bet on that holding true.

Adam had even considered cancelling his meeting with Case's boss in favor of escorting Kris through the Dome to Drey and Gee's doorstep but Cheeks, bored and eager to catch up on gossip, had volunteered to escort them through the many, many layers of security.  He wasn't part of the Ring and when Kris had asked why, he'd been treated to a fifteen minute rant on the lazy, corp-owned scum that called themselves mercs on the East Coast.  Cheeks, he was informed loftily, had standards.

Drey and Gee were dealing with their insurance adjustor who had the worst timing in the history of the world and had called six times until Gee had stormed off to deal with him.  Drey had gone running after him to make sure they still had an adjustor and an insurance policy, leaving Kris, Glitch and Cheeks to amuse themselves.

"Sweetheart," Cheeks sniffed.  "You aren't a gimmick.  You two are the first models in the last ...ten years? that I've actually wanted to look like."

"Yeah but that's only good for advertisements," Glitch argued.  "And if we want to be in the fashion spreads, we need to be 'proper' models'."

"I don't see why," Kris interrupted.  They'd already had this argument twice and he was sick of it.  "It's not like Drey and Gee are trying to be the same sort of fashion house.  There's more armor in a pair of Dorsett Gibson boxers than there is in the whole Louis Vuitton Spring collection-"

"That's not a bad thing," Cheeks interrupted.

"-I know, but that's just it.  Even the off-the-rack stuff from the major fashion houses is stuck in the twentieth century.  Most of the Klein suits don't let you access your plugs.  They all look the same and it's boring and stupid.  I think Drey makes better clothes when he's working without coffee than most of these places are putting out."

"Which is why the nicest thing anyone's said so far is that it's 'cute' to see them going back to RPMs," Glitch sighed.

"RPMs?"  Cheeks asked.

"Real Person Models," Kris couldn't believe that there was an actual term for that, or that he knew what it meant.  "Pretty much what it sounds like; any model that's recognizably human."

"Kitten's got claws," Cheeks peered at him.  "That's adorable.  You know, the more I find out about you, the harder it is to believe that you're dating 'Fyre."

"Not this _again_ ," Kris groaned.

"I'm just saying," Cheeks held up his hands.  "You're just...too pushy.  ‘Fyre likes his boys to roll over and beg and, first impressions aside, you really don't seem the type to do that."

"I beg plenty," Kris said dryly.  "It's all in the timing."

Glitch tried to hide a burst of laughter as a coughing fit and Kris threw a pen at him.  Cheeks examined his nails, painted blood red with black details and Kris sat back.

"See, he used to like boys who could push back," Cheeks looked skeptically at Kris who bristled.  Cheeks' whole body was telegraphing utter distain.  "He's a top, no question, but he needs someone who can top him right back and you've got spirit but you're..."  Cheeks waved his hands.  "Sweet!  That's your problem.  You're just too sweet and adorable to be domineering."

Glitch was choking, face buried in his hands and Kris felt his eyebrows rising.  Cheeks thought he couldn't be bossy?  Seriously?  Kris was used to having doubts cast on his masculinity; he was tiny, geeky and dating a toppy merc who was twice his size.  But 'sweet'?  That was new.  Cheeks must have seen his expression because he shrugged apologetically.

"Don't get me wrong," he continued.  "There's definitely a place for sweet but mercs, we don't respond to sweet.  We respond to orders! It's-"

"Cheeks," Kris interrupted.  "Hush.  You're not funny."

"I'm not joking!  The whole attitude is so important and it's not something you can just fake!  That's why 'Fyre used to get such a discount; he was practically a made-to-order poster boy.  You aren't 'mean' or 'dangerous'; you're a sweetheart, not a badass."

Glitch glanced up at Kris, eyes sparkling with laughter.  Kris smiled at him then sat back in his chair, turning his attention back to Cheeks who still talking about 'attitude' and Kris being a sweet kid.  He had moved on to this as the latest, greatest reason for why Adam was clearly going to cheat on him and Kris' patience snapped so fast it was nearly audible.

"Cheeks," Kris said, voice low and even.  "I said _hush_."

Cheeks faltered and swung around to stare at him.  Kris stayed in his seat and looked back calmly.  Cheeks licked his lips and opened his mouth.  Kris tilted his head, eyes narrowing.  Cheeks closed his mouth without saying anything.  Glitch was being conspicuously quiet and Cheeks' eyes kept flicking sideways towards him.  Kris didn't look away.

He pushed himself up and instantly had Cheeks' full attention.  Cheeks' hands dropped to hover over the still buckled holsters for a second before he flexed his hands, extending the short sharp rippers built into the tips of his fingers.  Kris didn't smile as he straightened up and prowled around the table.  He kept his shoulders back and relaxed, hands open and he didn't move fast.  He just kept coming and Cheeks' heart-rate - tracked by the handy analysis software built into Kris' new bio-monitor - started to pick up.  On his best day, Kris couldn't hope to take Cheeks in a fight; the merc would tear him apart.  But when Kris stepped into Cheeks' personal space, eyes on his face, the merc leaned back.

Kris smiled.  He could practically see Cheeks' hackles rising and he leaned in even closer.  Cheeks' pupils expanded; Kris was close enough to see the facets of the lenses in his eyes as they adjusted.

"Uh-uh, I didn't say you could talk," Kris said, letting his voice dip lower and his accent thicken.  "You ran your mouth already.  I'm talking now and you are going to shut your mouth and clean out your ears."

Cheeks edged backwards and Kris moved with him, keeping the same narrow distance between them.

"I have been more than patient with you _constantly_ making digs at my boy because you're right.  He was an asshole and a dick and he absolutely should not have cheated on you,"  Cheeks' back hit the wall and Kris pressed close enough that he could smell Cheeks' minty toothpaste.  Cheeks' respiration spiked, the monitor flashing amber in the corner of Kris' vision.  "But that stops.  Right.  Now.  I am in love with Adam.  I live with him.  I choose to share my life with him.  I _trust_ him.  And there is nothing - not one damn thing - that you can do that will change that.  Understand?"

Cheeks swallowed and stared at him.

"Do. You. Under. Stand?"  Kris barked and Cheeks jumped, nodding.  "Good boy."

Kris leaned in to kiss Cheeks' forehead and stepped back with a smile.  Cheeks stared at him, slouched back against the wall with wide eyes and a slack jaw, heart-rate slowing as Kris backed away.

"Holy cow!"  Drey' voice made them both jump.  Kris hadn't even heard him come in.  Judging by the sour glare Cheeks was throwing Drey's way, neither had Cheeks.  Drey was perched on a cushion beside Glitch who was grinning like the cat who'd gotten the canary and the Thanksgiving turkey to boot.  "That was _hot_!"

"Hell yeah!"  Glitch agreed. 

"Yes, well,"  Cheeks smoothed his jacket down like a cat licking his fur smooth.  "That was what I meant.  If you'd brought that attitude out in your shoot, you'd have melted the damn cameras."

"It would have been hot," Drey agreed.

There was a thoughtful pause.  Kris could practically hear the squeak of wheels turning in Drey's head and even Glitch was frowning contemplatively at the ceiling.

"You know," Glitch said slowly.  "That's a good point.  The 'real' models in those magazines....okay, I guess they're kinda pretty in the same way that a car is gorgeous but they're not sexy and the clothes they wear don't look sexy."

"My clothes are sexy!"  Drey objected.

"Yes," Cheeks folded his arms and rolled his eyes.  "That's why the industry standard doesn't work for your line but that's also why your line is more marketable.  You just need the right hook."

"Like, what," Kris looked back and forth between them.  "You want to do a sex-themed shoot?"

"No, not just a 'sex' theme," Cheeks' eyes gleamed.  "That's just tawdry.  We don't just want sex - we want power, confidence, control-!"

"You sound like a flyer for one of the leather/dungeon clubs," Kris snarked.

"Yes!"  Cheeks jabbed a finger at him.  "That!  That's it.  That's absolutely perfect!  An S&M themed shoot!"

"Oh! My! God!"  Drey clapped his hands and squealed so loudly that everyone else winced.  "That is such an _awesome_ idea!!"

"You couldn't do anything explicit," Glitch said thoughtfully, reaching for his PADD and starting to take notes.  "Nothing tacky.  You want it to be artsy instead of pornographic."

"Oh, honey," Cheeks smirked.  "Pornography is in the mind, not the page.  Haven't you ever heard 'Half the pleasure's in the anticipation'?"

Kris was watching them talk themselves into it and wondering if maybe he should have taken that last anti-histamine after all when he became aware of Drey staring hopefully up at him.

"Jay?"  Drey was chewing on his thumbnail.  "We can totally do this, right?"

Wait, Kris was supposed to be the voice of reason here?  When had that happened?  He opened his mouth to object but Glitch and Cheeks were staring at him too and Kris sighed.  He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.  For a second, he panicked and his mind stayed utterly blank but then the whole thing started to unfold like an algorithm slotting into place and Kris could see how the whole thing could be made to work.  They'd need a whole list of things they didn't have and it was going to be tricky but he could see how it could work.

He opened his eyes, lips still moving as he worked through a few potential downsides and how to best get the ball rolling.  Glitch was already starting to smile; that boy knew Kris far too well.  Kris shook his head and laughed.

"We need to get Gee on side but yeah," Kris' grin stretched out to mirror Glitch's.  "We can _totally_ do this!"

It took another hour of brainstorming just to get the basics worked out.  Kris had his deck out and was working on budgets and lists like he was writing a real proposal.  Adam liked details and hard facts first, then planning and he and Gee really weren't as different as they pretended to be.  He didn't jack in - there was a phantom tremor in his right hand and even just plugging into use the base interface made a dull ache start in his temples - and he left Glitch to handle the cross-references and field Drey's more insane suggestions.

Drey was scribbling away, pages and pages of designs and Cheeks was offering suggestions and acidic commentary.  Then the conversation turned to props and they wound up trawling every adult-toy site on the ‘Net while Kris finished the last of the budget projections and tried not to listen.  This proved to be harder than he'd expected, especially when Glitch started to cackle and Drey critiqued the aesthetics.

Kris dragged out the last calculations but finally, he had to ask.  "So, is there _anything_ on those sites that you could actually work with?"

"Hey, Drey, look at that one!" Glitch tapped at the keys, bringing up another suggestion.  He was using the solid screen rather than the larger holographic display so Kris couldn't see what they were looking at.  "CockLossal proudly presents 'The Purple Warrior - for those craving the complete Merc experience!  With bonus P-KOCK docking options and attachments!'"

"Oh hell no!" 

Kris was with Cheeks on this one, legs pressing together instinctively.  There were some things that just should not replaced.  The Priapic Karnal Orgasm Constriction Kage or, the P-KOCK as everyone outside of the glossy brochures knew it, was the first and most popular cybernetic full-sensation penile implant.  Just the idea made Kris want to curl in on himself and hide. 

It had been a big fashion trend a few years ago; the idea of being able to trade out genitalia had swept through the more cybered circles on the street.  Kris had never ever gotten why someone would voluntarily chop off their own dick to plug in an artificial replacement.  Then he'd done some digging through the manufacturer's networking during a job and discovered records listing the actual failure rate for the most popular models.  He'd had nightmares for _weeks_.

"No sex-toys that require castration," Cheeks said flatly and Kris nodded.  "There's some fun toys but given Dorsett Gibson's existing client base, none of those are going to work.  We need props that look ...tough.  Honestly, the biggest problem will be the cuffs-"

"The biggest problem is going to be talking Mount Merc into the idea," Glitch corrected.

"Gee's going to love this," Drey said airily.  Kris glanced at Glitch who rolled his eyes.  Gee was almost certainly not going to love this but Kris wasn't going to protest if Drey was volunteering to jump on that landmine.  He took the stack of designs and started sorting through them.

"Okay, based on your sketches....yeah, okay, no,” Kris sorted through the ideas.  Drey really was a genius and the style was already visibly taking shape in the rough sketches.  There was only one big problem.  "There is no way that Glitch and I are going to be enough.  You'll need two or three female models at least and probably best to get another male to cover all your bases."

Glitch leaned over his shoulder, leafing through the sketches and letting his weight push down on Kris' shoulder.  He was focused, alert and Kris fought the urge to elbow him; just because Cheeks and Drey didn't know the difference between Glitch and Root didn't mean Kris was that blind.  He bit the urge back because Frankie was genuinely engaged and it was worth the (negligible) risk to see him so absorbed. 

"Yeah," Glitch agreed finally, setting the last of the pages down.  "But if you're going for thematic cohesion, the other guy's going to have to be similar to Jay and me.  Same height, coloring and all that."

Drey inspected the designs like he'd never seen them before.  All the clothing was modeled on Kris and Glitch's build and their coloring.  Kris had seen how fast Drey could dream up a design but he'd have to completely rework the whole thing if the other male model varied too much.  Drey tapped the stack and smiled.  "I got an idea for that..."

"Oh?"  Kris looked up as the last of the proposal spreadsheets finished merging.

Cheeks reached over to grab the stack of female-design sketches, leafing casually through them and Drey's eyes wandered up along his arms.  Cheeks didn't seem to notice.  "There's a lady I know who might fit."

Drey straightened up and started to wander around the table.  Kris watched him as Cheeks flicked through the sketches, arguing about lace and sequins and the transitional point between 'awesome' and 'tacky' with Glitch.  Drey kept moving until he was right behind Cheeks and then he planted his hands on his hips and gave Cheeks a once over.

Cheeks' attention shifted from Glitch to Drey.  He didn't move, just angled his head so he could watch Drey eying his ass.

Drey looked up at him and grinned.  "So, what'll it take?"

"You'd have to take that up with the lady in question," Cheeks drawled, half-turning to stare at him.

"Not for her.  We'll deal with that later," Drey flapped his hands dismissively.  "For you!"

"...what?"  Cheeks' flat shock echoed Kris' and he looked over to see Glitch's expression shift from the same shock to calculating.  It...it kinda made sense, actually.  Kris wasn't stupid and he sure as hell wasn't blind.  He and Cheeks were more overlap than difference and Glitch was darker haired, softer faced but they fit together like code functions slotting into place.

"Well?"  Drey demanded impatiently.  "What'll it take?"

Kris heard a muffled curse from outside and a thump.  That sounded like Gee.  The big blond merc was sitting at the counter, scowling blackly at the marble like it had personally offended him.  Kris glanced back to catch Glitch's eye and tilted his head to where Drey and Cheeks were staring each other down.  Glitch nodded and Kris stepped out into the store, leaving the door half-open.

"Well," Drey was saying, like he hadn't noticed Kris leave.  He probably hadn't.  Drey never noticed the little details.  "You’re roughly the same size, have cheekbones to die for and your ass is fairly good."

Gee scowled, pressing down on the desk with a clenched fist.  Kris edged a little closer, careful to stay out of arm's reach.  "You okay?"

"FAIRLY?"  Cheeks' indignant shriek made them both wince and Kris pulled the door over a little.

"Fine."  Gee glowered at the screen like it had scratched up his favorite gun.

"I mean," Drey was chattering on.  "You might need to tone up a little but yeah, it would work."

"You sure?"  Kris could just about see Glitch hovering behind Cheeks, ready to grab him if the merc decided to go for Drey's throat.  Judging by the murderous expression on his face, Kris was giving it about two more minutes.

"Because my ass is going to have to make for your sloppy sewing?"  Cheeks sneered and Kris winced.  Of course Cheeks wasn't going to claw Drey's eyes out; he was just going to verbally eviscerate him.

"Did Drey really just...?"  Gee trailed off as Drey's voice rose effortlessly above the background music.

"Shoddy sewing?! Why you ungrateful little.... If you laid off Jay's muffins and hit the gym once it a while-!!"

"We might have a plan for the new shoot," Kris said, raising his voice a little to drown Drey out.  It was futile but as Drey's voice climbed to dog-whistle pitch, Kris really envied Gee the level-damper cyber-modifications that would let him tune out any sounds he wanted.

" _I'M_ ungrateful!"  Cheeks really did have a very impressive vocal range.  "You're the one who-"

Glitch was just about keeping the two of them apart and starting to look a little panicked.  Kris held up a hand to Gee and kicked the door open again.  "KNOCK IT OFF!  BOTH OF YOU!"

Gee blinked and there was blessed silence.  Glitch was chewing on his lips to keep from smiling and Cheeks was staring at him, mouth still open.  Drey was staring too, eyes wide and shiny and lower lip wobbling and okay, Kris was not doing this frankly _insane_ shoot in the middle of a daytime drama.

"You," he stabbed a finger at Cheeks who stepped back, eyes going wider.  "Muzzle it.  Not one more word.  You," his finger swung to Drey.  "Stop criticizing him if you want him to seriously think about signing up with you, okay?  If you want him to model, you are _both_ going to have to grow the fuck up and start acting like professionals or I swear to God, I will end you both!"

Drey and Cheeks nodded like bobble dolls and Gee stared down at him, the corner of his lip quirking.  Kris breathed out and turned to the PADD he'd filled with the projections and plans.

"And you thought he couldn't top you,” Glitch stage-whispered to Cheeks.

Cheeks glared.

"Glitch," Kris growled.  "Shut it!"

There were times when Glitch's absolute inability to leave shit alone really, really pissed Kris off.  He'd be damned if he let Glitch start kicking up problems as fast as Kris could shut them down.  Gee looked at them both and started to laugh, deep belly laughter that shook his shoulders and transformed his whole face.

Kris glared at him.  "What's so funny?"

Gee held up his hands, still laughing.  Kris blinked at him.  It was kinda freaky seeing Gee laugh like a real human being.  Glitch sidled up to Kris, peering at Gee with wide eyes.

"...I didn't think he knew how to laugh." 

"I will staple your mouth shut," Kris said conversationally.

"Just use a ball-gag," Cheeks sniped.  "We're about to have a surplus, after all."

Gee stopped laughing, face shifting into a far more familiar scowl.  With his pure black eyes it looked demonic.  Cheeks was, predictably, not intimidated.

"We're buying every other sex-toy known to man," he examined the polish on his nails with deliberate calm.  "Might as well use them."

Gee glanced at Drey, grunted and turned his attention back to Kris.  Kris felt Glitch relax a little; Cheeks wasn't the powerhouse Gee was but he wasn't a pushover and if the two of them started anything physical in this confined space, it would be bad.

"We have an idea for the next shoot," Kris passed over the PADD and Gee took it back to the table, thumbing through the PADD and scratching some figures down with a pen and paper.  There was no way to read his expression and Kris fought the urge to fidget as Gee worked through the figures.

"Would need a new photographer."  Gee paused then added.  "And models."

"There's some options on the fourth page,"  Kris tapped the display table, feeding the data from his wrist-comp and the portfolios materialized as a bundle of folders.  Gee looked up and Kris flipped up the slideshows.  "I don't think we're going to get any of the fashion photographers and honestly?  We don't want them.  This isn't going to be a typical fashion shoot."

"No,” Gee agreed as he flicked through a few of the photos.

"But those guys?"  Kris tilted his head at the display.  "They're all good and they're all unknown enough that they might say yes."

"Also,” Glitch dug his chin in Kris' shoulder and seriously, did he sharpen that thing or what?  "Drey wants Cheeks as the third male."

Gee looked over at Kris.  "He gonna do it?"

" _He_ is right here, thank you very much," Cheeks bristled.

Gee didn't even look at him.  He just kept staring at Kris.  Kris didn't remember volunteering to be the mastermind behind this madness but there was an expectant quality to the silence that suggested he wasn't going to be allowed to duck out of this.

He rolled his head towards Cheeks.  "You in?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely,” Cheeks rolled his eyes.  "...Fine."

"Get him a manager," Gee jerked his head at Cheeks, already turning his attention back to the portfolios.  "Need to see about the rest."

"I'll talk to Firecracker," Kris pulled out his phone, eager to get the hell out of the room before someone volunteered him to take the photos on top of everything else.  He closed the door on Gee's groan and Cheeks' viciously pleased smirk and made a note to triple the coffee order.  This was going to be a _long_ day.

\--

Kris' phone went off before Adam's alarm the next morning, jarring him out of a hazy dream and snapping Adam awake.  Kris was nearly squashed as Adam went for the gun under his pillow, aiming at the door before waking the rest of the way and collapsing on top of Kris.  Kris squeaked; Adam was fucking heavy and Kris had to grab blindly for his phone as Adam pressed him into the mattress.

"'lo?"

"Jay!"  Drey was far too shrill and cheery and Kris winced.  "Listen, I had some ideas about designs but I need you to come in and do your techie thing so I can actually start making them and the coffee machine's not working for me and Gee won't get out of bed and I really, really, _really_ need to get this done because the new fabric is coming at twelve and I'm not even half-done and-"

Kris closed his eyes, breathing in the warm scent of Adam and sleep, and wondered if he could just wait for Drey to pass out from oxygen deprivation.

Adam shifted his head so he was breathing against Kris' free ear and Kris shivered at the rough rasp in his voice.  "Won't stop him - Drey can talk for an hour like that."

"Joy," Kris breathed then raised his voice enough for Drey to hear him.  "Okay, Drey, I get the idea.  What did you want me to do about it?"

"Come in?"  Drey begged.  "I need a second pair of eyes and you can make all the tech stop being bitchy."

"A second pair of eyes doesn't do you much good if they're closed," Kris protested but he was awake and really, there was no point in stalling the inevitable.  "All right.  Give me half an hour."

"Yay!  Thank you, babes!"  Drey blew loud kisses down the phone and Kris laughed as he hung up.

Adam was still pinning him to the bed but he was awake too, not just dead weight any more.  Not that he was helping Kris get out of the damn bed.  Kris didn't have any leverage to roll Adam off him and there was no way in hell he was going to be able to lift Adam.  He tried anyway but he might as well have tried to lift the Statue of Liberty.

"You move or I start tickling," Kris warned.

Adam nipped the side of his neck and Kris shivered.  He could feel Adam's smile against his skin and he shook his head.  "I'm serious.  Tickling-"

"Tickling is boring," Adam's voice was still harsh enough to raise goosebumps on the back of Kris' neck and he settled himself closer.  He was still sleep-warm and Kris ran his fingers lightly up Adam's side.  "I can think of so many things we could be doing instead."

"Don't have time," Kris managed.  Adam's hand was working its way up under the t-shirt Kris had pulled on last night.  "Adam..."

Adam kissed him again.  He really was unfairly good at that and Kris' determination wavered, just for a second but Kris pushed at him.  Adam let him go immediately, propping himself on his hands and watching Kris' face with narrowed eyes.  Kris patted his shoulder and held still for the second it took Adam to be sure that he wasn't freaking out.  Then he rolled out of bed before Adam could persuade him otherwise.

He shook his right hand, trying to flick away the lingering pins and needles.  He'd been plugged in too long yesterday.  Not the best start to the morning but if he brought his deck, he could just use the primary plugs.  Adam was still watching him, propped on a hip and Kris carefully didn't rub at the offending plug.  He was fine and Adam didn't need another thing to worry about right now.

"Gonna-" Kris waved his left hand at the bathroom.  "Shower.  You should get some more sleep."

"I'll give you a lift," Adam sounded awake, voice clear and crisp.

"You need to sleep," Kris frowned at him.  Adam had been getting up earlier and earlier every day for the last week, trying to make up the time he had spent home with Kris.  "I can grab a cab."

Adam's eyes flicked down to Kris' wrist and back up so fast that Kris nearly missed it.  "I'll have a pot of coffee and it'll be fine."

Kris started to argue but Adam was already throwing back the covers and Kris sighed.  Adam caught his wrist and tugged him into a kiss.  Kris threaded the fingers of his free hand through Adam's hair and leaned up to kiss him back.

"I worry, okay?"  Adam admitted after a minute.  "And I'm not gonna sleep alone in bed anyway."

Kris grinned and Adam nipped his lower lip, backing him carefully into the bathroom and the shower.  It wasn't exactly efficient but they made do.  It had been longer than Kris liked to think since they'd had time for a lazy shower.  If Adam's crazy schedule wasn't sabotaging their plans, Kris' stupid failure of an immune system was.

It was nice to be able to steal five minutes to just share the same space and Kris couldn't muster the energy needed to argue when Adam pulled on his street armor and followed him into the elevator.  Instead, he curled into Adam's side and kept an arm around his waist the whole way down.  Even New York was only starting to stir to life and there was hardly any traffic.  Kris wrapped his arms around Adam's waist and drowsed through the checkpoints and security sweeps.

The Dome was still sleeping - streets all but empty and Adam pulled up to Dorsett Gibson's door only five minutes late.  Kris unhooked his helmet and swung off the bike.  Adam was watching a shadow through the window, lips quirked.  He was amused, not alert the way he was when he saw something that might be a threat so it was probably just Gee.  Kris braced himself on the fuel tank and kissed Adam, just insistent enough to draw his attention away from the looming merc in the window.

"Eat something before you go in, okay?"

"Yes, mom," Adam grinned at him and this time, Kris nipped his lip.

"Not sure how long I'll be in today," Adam's expression blanked but there were tense lines around his eyes.  Kris sighed.  "I'm going to take it easy - lots of breaks if I start getting tired, so I don't know how long it's actually going to take me to finish."

Adam relaxed a little, half-smiling and Kris kissed him again.

"Go on," Adam said finally drawing back.  "Gee's probably loading the shotgun.  I'll see you tonight.  Love you."

"Love you too," Kris smiled.  "Don't forget to eat."

He turned to the door which was already open, Gee's shadow filling most of the space, and heard the bike come to life behind him.  He stopped to wave on the top step and Adam waved back.  Gee was standing just inside the door, glowering at them and the street indiscriminately.

"Morning, Gee," Kris ducked under his arm.

"Make coffee," Gee growled.  "Machine's busted."

"I think I can manage that," Kris dropped his bag in the workshop on his way past.  The coffee machine wasn't actually broken; Drey must have tried to refill the hopper again and it only took him a few minutes to fix.  Then he had to start tearing through the hundred and one tiny disasters that Drey had managed to inflict on his poor mainframe.

Glitch showed up around nine with a pastry box under his arm and his deck in the bag hanging off his shoulder.  Kris had finished the emergency repairs and accepted a coffee and a raisin pastry.  Gee was in the stockroom - apparently Drey had ordered every sex-toy on the 'Net and they were arriving by the crate load.  Drey had volunteered to sign for them, then promptly been distracted by the very first crate and started unpacking it instead.  Gee had taken over after that.

"Don't ask," Kris warned when Glitch went to sit down on a chair that was full of coordinated sets of anal beads, butt-plugs and vibrators.  "Apparently the color sucks or something."

"Yeah, okay," Glitch carefully scraped the toys off with one of the PADDs on the table.  "Just tell me they haven't been used."

"Nope," Kris assured him.  "Drey's best efforts to the contrary notwithstanding.  I don't think Gee's in the mood."

"Huh," Glitch peered over his shoulder at where Gee was glowering at the latest stack of crates.  "Can't imagine why."

Cheeks arrived about an hour later, just as Glitch and Kris were starting to work on the list of demands Drey had put together for the shoot.  Location at least was easy; there was a large warehouse that DEx had controlled for years off Astoria Boulevard that was easily transferred to a reputable shell corporation.  It was big, empty and right next to La Guardia so moving in the set and props shouldn't be a problem.

"Tell me there is coffee," Cheeks fell dramatically into the chair beside Kris.  The moment was rather spoiled by the buzzing and the way Cheeks bounced right back out of the chair to stare down in horror at the vibrator.

"I don't think you need coffee anymore," the woman standing in the door had her hip propped against the frame.

Kris looked up and the suite flashed up a brief bio - '`Scarlett, formerly Red Terror in the South-Western area, merc (retired)`' - and Kris smiled.  "You must be Brad's friend."

"I wouldn't go that far," Scarlett arched an eyebrow.  "Then again, I've known him for years and I haven't shot him yet so perhaps that's close enough?"

"Love you too, bitch," Cheeks was poking at the stack of silicone and RL-SKINN toys and the venom in his voice was mostly drowned out by the distraction.

"Yeah," Kris grinned as Glitch looked up from his deck to offer 'helpful' advice to Cheeks.  "You're going to fit right in."

Scarlett was _awesome_ ; smart, fearless and fully prepared to run her mouth.  After ten minutes, it was like Kris had known her forever.  The fact that the suite had compiled her entire life story for him probably helped.  Scarlett had been a solid merc, working out of the San Francisco Incorporated Residential Environment and retired two years ago with an Iron Circle rank of 3.  Virago's assessment suggested that she'd been robbed; her stats should have rated her at least a 2, if not top of her region.  Virago's assessment concluded that this might have played a part in her decision to retire; being a merc was still mostly a boy's club and the few female Faces generally had to bust their asses to earn anything better than an okay rep.

Scarlett didn't seem bitter and for all the old-married-couple sniping, she and Cheeks genuinely seemed to like each other.  She didn't let Gee bully her or Drey drown her in over-enthusiasm; in fact, she sat Drey down and spent most of the next hour and a half explaining why his designs for the female models needed work without triggering a single diva-fit.

"You are awesome!"  Glitch declared.  "If I was single, I would totally be asking you out!"

"Since when are you not single?!"  Drey demanded.  Kris looked up from the latest list of things they absolutely and totally needed, and Glitch was blushing.  Actual honest-to-god blushing.

"Since forever," Kris interrupted.  "Not all of us flaunt our relationships, Drey.  Some people take it slow."

Glitch shot him a grateful look and the chat window popped up.

`ROOT:> Thanks man`

`HIJACK:>> Don't sweat it.  I'll bug you for the details later. :)`

`Root:> Nice.  Love you too dickhead.`

"Anyway, we need to do some actual research," Kris continued before Drey could persist.  "Based on what Cheeks has been saying, all the plans we have aren't _authentic_."

"Well, sugar, all you had to do was ask," Scarlett's smile promised bad things.  "I'd be happy to show you around some of the clubs."

Oh yeah, this was going to be bad.  Kris set the last of the parameters on the programs that were transferring ownership of the warehouse and the financial flag that was ensuring Drey didn't bankrupt Dorsett Gibson with his newly developed sex-toy habit and sat back.  On the other hand, he was already developing a headache and what felt like an itch inside his plugs.  Going out to look at clubs should at least be interesting.

"What time do they open?" Kris asked.  "I've got plans for tonight."

"Oh, honey," Scarlett looped an arm across his shoulders.  "This is NYC, not your quiet little West Coast town."

"Hey!"  Drey objected.

Scarlett waved a hand at him.  "Kink does not sleep in the Big Apple."

"This is going to be horrific, isn't it?"  Kris said dryly but he was already pushing his chair back.

"This is going to be fabulous!"  Scarlett beamed.  "Trust me, I've worked the door at every halfway decent leather club in the city.  I know exactly where to take you."

In the end, they were both right.  The first club, a modest place called ' _Dominion_ ', turned out to a quiet, private place with red velvet curtains and leather-covered seats and tables.  The most interesting thing, from Kris' perspective, was the French maid outfits that all the employees wore.  Well, really the interesting part was trying to figure out how the hell they managed to do their jobs with all the extra straps and the nine-inch heels.  There was a terrifying amount of lace, which meant that Drey was instantly bored.

They didn't get past the lobby of the second club, a glossy place called ' _The Marquis of NYC_ '.  Glitch just pointed to the 4-D display advertising 'School Night; Learn how to Turn Your Pet into the Perfect Little Pupil.  De-aging skin treatments and costumes available for bargain prices!!'

"Yeah, no," Cheeks swung them round and they went right back out to the cab.  "That's so not the look we want."

"I know exactly where to go next," Scarlett nodded.  "But..."

"But?" Drey and Glitch echoed.

"They're a little strange, okay," Scarlett waved her hands.  "They get intense about things like 'proper respect'.  If you can get some of them - they'll be perfect but they don't like posers."

"Wonderful," Kris sighed, fingers flicking as he checked the status of the various projects.  He was dragging, energy levels dropping and honestly, he didn't have the willpower left to handle a club full of elitist snobs on top of everything else.

"Cheeks was telling me that you're going to be top for the shoot," Scarlett's brief once over did nothing to reassure him.  "They aren't going to be interested if you can't back it up.  The Domme who runs this club, Madame Erato, she's a big deal in the scene.  If she says you're posers, we're kinda screwed.  She runs a really tight club; everyone's supposed to be 'on' as soon as they go through the door.  You're going to have to be really convincing.  Not just Jay, you guys too."

"No pressure then," Kris closed his eyes, fingers tapping out a quick text to Adam.

" _So much for a career as a model.  Drey wants me to talk to some people. ):_ "

His inbox refreshed with a new message - Adam must be on a coffee break.  " _WHATS WRONG BABE?  WHY CANT YOU TAKL TO THEM?_ "

" _Not bossy enough.  Supposed to look like I'm in charge._ "  Kris sent back.  He wasn't quite to the point of admitting that actually he was going to have to a toppy bastard to the city's leading Domme.  Not over text, anyway.

' _CLOSE YOUR EYES AND CENTER YOURSELF BABE.  IMAGINE THAT IM THERE WITH YOU AND THAT MY HAND IS REACHING BENEATH YOUR WAISTBAND AND THEY INTERRUPT!_ "

Kris groaned.  " _Thanks, now have hard-on and blush.  You better be home on time tonight._ "

" _PLANNING ON IT BABE.  YOURE YOU AND YOU ARE AWESOME.  DONT LET THEM GET TO YOU.  YOURE THE LEAD MODEL.  THEY DO WHAT YOU SAY!!!_ "

" _Here's hoping.  Love you_."  Kris opened his eyes as the cab came to a stop outside an older building with oak-effect doors.  The sign was on a bronze plate and read simply ' _The Sharpest Thorn_ '.

" _LOVE YOU TOO BABE.  SEE YOU TONIGHT_."  Kris shut down the texting program and swung his feet out, smiling a little as he did so.

"You've got to-" Scarlett was saying but Kris shook his head.

"I can handle it," he really hoped he could but if he thought of them as Zombies....maybe?  It was all in the attitude and just because Kris spent most of his time passing for inoffensive and unobtrusive...okay, bad place to start.  He needed to think of it more as a shift at _Idolize:NYC_.  He could do that.

Scarlett got them past the door, Glitch and Cheeks hanging back a half-step and looking around with wide eyes.  _The Sharpest Thorn_ was an elegant emporium with a heavy emphasis on leather and chromed chains.

"Eyes front, boys," Kris said quietly.  Glitch glanced at him then down at the floor, picking up the hint.  Cheeks blinked and Kris looked back over his shoulder.  He could practically see it click and Cheeks ducked his head, mimicking Glitch.  "Scarlett, keep Drey from running off, would you?"

"Yes, sir," Scarlett fell back to Drey's side.  Drey was already staring the sculptures, scribbling away at his PADD.  Kris led the way through the lobby area and up marble stairs that made Drey sigh longingly.

Upstairs, the air was smoky and it was hotter than a sauna.  There were alcoves and okay, yes.  Kris had been running around the 'Net since he was old enough to plug in the old BetaComp in his mom's office.  He had been cracking age-locks before he hit double-digits and he'd probably seen at least eighty percent of the porn out there during his online career.  He had thought there was nothing left that strangers could do that would shock him.

Seeing it live and right there turned out to be a little different.  It was certainly a lot more embarrassing.  There were a lot of doors, each with a sign and couches spread around in alcoves with curtains that most people didn't seem to bother drawing.  One of the staff, wearing a latex tuxedo and a sequined collar, appeared at his side.

"Can I help you..."

"Can I help you, S _ir_ ," Kris corrected.  "Or are your manners as sloppy as your timing?"

The man blinked and opened his mouth.  Kris turned to look at him, eyebrow raised.  He was mostly copying how Adam dealt with the flunkies at Gunfire and _Idolize:NYC_ but it worked.  The guy snapped his mouth shut and ducked his head, eyes dropping.

"My apologies, sir,” he bowed slightly and stayed there.  "If Sir has any requirements or wishes to secure a place at any of the scheduled events, I would be happy to facilitate Sir."

"I wish to speak to Madame Erato," Kris said coolly. 

"Unfortunately, M'lady is unavailable at present, Sir," the man stayed bowed over.  "If Sir wishes to converse with a House Domme, Mistress Domina is entertaining in the suspension room."

"I am here," Kris kept his voice cool and even, "to speak with Madame Erato about business matters.  If she is too busy, well," Kris clicked his fingers at Scarlett.  "What was the other club?"

" _The Satyr's Lair_ , sir," Scarlett answered and the man's nostrils flared.  "Master Silenus is always happy to listen to business propositions."

"True," Kris sighed.  "I had heard such good things about Madame.  Can't trust anyone these days."

The man was practically vibrating with outrage and Kris let him stew for a few seconds before turning back.

"If you aren't going to be any use, you might as well go," Kris waved his hand.  "You're certainly no use to me."

"With your permission, Sir," the man straightened very slightly.  "M'lady is always happy to discuss business.  Who may I say is inquiring?"

"Dorsett Gibson," Kris said.

Kris snapped his fingers and Glitch held out a card - one of Drey's - and Kris took it with a nod.  Glitch backed up, keeping his head down.  He tapping the card against the back of his hand before holding it out to the man.  "We can spare a few minutes for an answer, I suppose." 

"I will return as soon as possible, Sir," the man bowed deeply and zoomed off.

"Well," Kris said quietly.  "That went okay."

"That was fucking awesome!"  Scarlett hid her grin behind her hair.  "You need to mingle a little.  It's going to take a while for him to get back to you."

"Any suggestions?" Kris looked at the doors around them.  "No?  Leather room it is."

The leather room turned out to be mostly full of roving half-naked men wearing chaps and boots and nothing else.  There were clusters of admirers around some of the more generously endowed guys and oddly shaped chairs that looked be made out of steel.

"Check out the new 'ware!!"  

Kris glanced down and immediately wished he hadn't.  Most P-KOCKs were deliberately covered with flesh colored Real-SKINN but Kris hadn't realized that it came in chrome.  The LEDs were a ‘nice’ touch.

"'S called the Trouser Snake," the guy kept going, rocking his hips as the LEDs began lighting up.  "Check it out."

Kris could actually hear the whirr as the P-KOCK activated and...was it segmented?  Why would anyone do that?  He felt Glitch and Cheeks crowd closer, repulsed but fascinated.  They both jumped as the individual segments started to rotate.  It was hypnotic but Kris was watching the rotation as the segments sped up and there was something ...not right.

"Are they spinning in different directions?"  Kris demanded.

"Yeah!"  The guy sounded like a fourteen year old with the latest game console.  "Maximize the sensation."

"Maximize the odds of giving anyone you stick that in an Indian burn," Kris corrected, wincing despite himself.  "Also, given the oscillation, it's going to shake itself apart - probably soon - though if you're careful, you might be able to save the mounting."

The guy went grey and there was a spreading murmur of amusement. 

"Try going to an actual pro next time."

There was a ripple of laughter and Kris used it as a distraction and stepped back.  Two of the tuxedo-wearing staff closed in and the unfortunate man was swept out of the room.

"You're surprisingly vicious," Scarlett murmured in his ear.

"I thought I was being rather nice," Kris said innocently.

"What more could you have said?"  Cheeks hissed.

"Well, I could have pointed out that despite everything, my boy's still bigger?"

"He really is," Drey agreed, looking up from his sketches.

"True," Cheeks conceded.  "I mean, god knows, the kid paid for every other bell and whistle.  Would it have killed him to get it in the bigger size?"

"Oh, look!"  Glitch interrupted.  "There's the guy who went to talk with the scary lady.  Time to stop talking about 'Fyre's dick and get to work."

Kris turned to see the latex-tuxedo man in the doorway and sighed.  It wasn't like he wanted to talk about Adam's dick with two of his exes either but he would really rather be free to go home and cash in the promise from Adam's texts.

"No rest for the wicked," Kris lifted a hand to call the guy over.  "Drinks are on you tonight, Drey."


	16. Chapter 16

Adam nodded along with the beat, barely hearing the twinkly notes of the backing melody as he listened for the note.  It was hard to believe that less than a month ago Adam had been hyped to start recording. Things had changed steadily since he’d taken a week to make sure Kris recovered.  Gunfire’s assembled VPs had debated Adam’s style, his songs, everything about him and Adam hadn’t been able to say a word.  Even Case had been shot down as the VPs’ nerves came to the fore.  They were nervous.  Adam was straying too far away from Gunfire’s signature sound and they wanted to put the Gunfire stamp on him and his music.  They’d stuck him with a moderating influence, Clint, an ace director on paper, but one with no imagination and a major drug habit that kept him in the VPs pockets.  Adam had tried to give them options but they’d shaken their heads and said that the songs he'd written and performed before joining Gunfire were old news.  Everything he'd written since then, including some fierce anthems that he and Monte had busted their asses over, had been cast aside without a second glance, dismissed as too street, too rough. 

Silicone Heart wasn't a bad song, not by any measure, but it just wasn't _his_.  Ironic, given the fact that Adam had co-written it.  It was soft, gentle, and spanned middle of the road just like every other song on the airwaves.  It was pop princess pretty and about as far from what Adam wanted to sing as you could get without leaving the state, but this was what the execs wanted him to release as his debut single, the seminal work that would put him on the musical map and for that alone, Adam hated it. 

Every time that Adam tried to add something real, Clint pulled him back and Adam was starting to drown in a sea of treble clefs and quavers.  Clint was dragging him back down whenever he started to cut loose.  _Silicone Heart_ was dragging him down and it was slowly killing his spirit.  If it wasn’t for the fact that Case was still on his side, still fighting Adam’s corner as best he could, Adam would have walked. 

One hundred and twenty takes and he was no closer to a finished version.  Nothing was going right, and Adam wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.  Tommy and Monte were struggling too; every suggestion they made was shot down.  Lisa had been threatened with termination for offering her genuine opinion and Adam hadn’t heard LP open his mouth in the last week.  They didn't even bother to open their mouths any more, just played the notes and rolled their eyes at Clint, then cued it up again.

Kris had seen it and sat Adam down on the couch, somehow finding time in the middle of the work he was doing for Drey to let Adam talk it out.  It had been amazingly therapeutic to just say all the things that he couldn't say to Clint.  When Adam had asked Kris what he thought of the song, he'd summed the whole mess up in one word.

‘Nice.’

Adam didn't want to sing 'nice' songs.  He wanted to sing the songs that grabbed you and refused to leave you alone, mugging you in the middle of the night and not letting go until you were singing along, moving to the beat.  Adam trusted Kris' opinion.  God knew, Kris'd heard the song often enough. Adam had taken to singing it in the shower, in the kitchen, even on his way to Gunfire in the morning; just hoping for that one moment of inspiration but so far none had come. 

Kris had also asked him for a favor: write a song, one for Kris to listen to whenever he needed to be close to Adam.  With their schedules pulling them apart, they didn’t get to do much more than cuddle at night.  Kris asked for a song that he could just tune into when the atmosphere at Dorsett Gibson got too stifling.  Adam didn’t know exactly what was happening with the new shoot but Kris was wrangling the models, working out a lot of the logistics as well as working out the technical issues and keeping Gee from killing everyone.

Adam had put the lyrics together over the weekend and gotten the basic melody on the drive in on Monday.  Then Monte looked it over, nodding his head as he looked over the notes and when he smiled, Adam knew that he'd nailed it.  Only one step left to go and he already had the band onside.

"Reset and lunch," Clint called and Adam sagged as he pulled off the headphones.

Clint was already gone, pulling the sound engineer with him.  Monte was at the desk seconds later, with Lisa at the door keeping watch. 

"All set, 'Fyre, whenever you're ready."

Adam replaced the headphones and took a deep breath.  This was for Kris.  This was for everything Kris had done for him.  This was for Love with a capital L.  Adam closed his eyes and _sang_.

_Come with me,  
Fly, fly, fly away with me,  
You and me and nothing else,  
Screaming down the streets  
And never looking back.  
New wheels, our old lives behind.  
You and me will touch forever._

Tommy picked up the baseline and LP laid down the drumline. 

Adam kept his eyes closed, putting every measure of raw emotion into the music that he could.  Everything that he felt for Kris; the wonder, the heat of their relationship, it all went into the song and Adam let the breathless moans rise.

_I lost you once,  
But never again.  
Holding you close,  
Driving you higher.  
You and me together,  
Just skin and souls,   
Meeting as one.  
Come.    
Come with me!_

Adam let himself go, showing off the power and depth of what he felt for Kris.  He knew it was gold even as the last note trailed off, but Monte made them run it twice more for safety before sending Lisa in to rock her keyboards, handing the desk over to Tommy and picking out the melody on his custom double-neck guitar.  It was the first time that Adam had seen Monte play it and it added a whole other dimension to the song.  Clearly, he wasn't the only one feeling stifled under Clint's dictatorial direction.

The sound was awesome, totally perfect and Adam couldn’t help but tap his foot as he listened to it.  _This_ was the sort of music that he wanted to sing.  _This_ was what he wanted to be known for.  Hell, if he could, he’d pull Case down here right now along with half the board and get them listening to the song.

"We got it," Tommy turned around in his seat as Monte held the last note.  "You happy with that take?"

Adam nodded, "Yeah, yeah.  It sounds good.  Strong.  Exactly how I heard it in my head."  He shrugged, "Well, apart from the double guitar.  Seriously, where was Monte hiding that beast?  But yeah.  Feels so good to get something down and to get it right.  I'd almost forgotten what it was like, you know?"

"Yeah," Tommy smiled, "Don't I am sick of that damned song.  Where did you pull this one out of and why can't we have that as our first single?"

Adam shook his head, "Politics, man.  The Execs wants us to do Silicone Heart and say that we'll breakthrough with it.  I don't know.  Case is trying but I don’t think he’s getting anywhere.  I don't know if it's genuinely bad but I might just scream if I have to sing it one more time.  It's just so flat.  There's no life to it, no spark.  You know what I mean?"

"Yeah but…" Tommy hesitated.  "You know, it's going to take Monte a few minutes to put this song together, so go in there and sing that stupid song the way that you want to sing it.  Hit the high notes, scoop the low notes and make it yours.  Clint will be back in about ten minutes, but go, do something to make it yours before he makes it his again."

Adam sighed, "What's the point?"

"If this is going to be your first single, like they want it to be and I still haven't given up hope that they're going to wake up one of these days and let you off the hook, you're going to have to sing it at every concert, every appearance," Tommy said seriously.  "Clint isn't going to be there.  He's not going to be standing in the wings and telling you how you need to sing it.  You need to know if it's going to be something that you can play with.  You need to know if you can work with it or not.  So go nuts with it.  Do something crazy and Monte will keep working on the new one."

Adam thought about it for a moment, "Alright.  Can you cue it up?"

"You got it, man," Tommy smiled and pressed a few buttons.

Adam went into the soundproof booth and put the headphones on.  He closed his eyes and listened to LP's drum line count him in.  Tommy's base picked up the rhythm and Monte's guitars came next with Lisa's keyboards and synths close on their heels, and Adam sang.  It was all over the place at the start, but Adam caught the song and did just what Tommy suggested.  Everything that Clint had told him to cut was back and Adam tore the song apart.

_You were the one that stole my heart  
Why, oh why, did I give it to you  
Trashed and broken, I got it back  
Glued it up and hoped for the best  
But it crumbled again and left me alone  
Now all I got left is Silicone._

The way that they had restructured the song and the cuts that they’d made left it so that there was something to the song that just sat wrong with Adam, something pathetic between the lines.  It was a song about how badly broken someone had made him, how a single relationship had ruined his life and that wasn't who he was.  He'd gotten shot, he'd gotten stabbed, and every time he'd just picked himself up and moved on. 

He'd written the bones of the song back in San D, during the bleak days after Trojan - when he'd thought that Kris was dead and then the joy that he’d felt when Kris had walked back into his life – but the version Clint was trying to bully out of him had nothing in common with the angry story of a thrashed merc who turned cold after his lover was shot. He’d cut out the joyful rise at the end.  He’d cut out every hit of emotion until it was a song of revenge and the hollow spiral into despair. Clint insisted it was a lovelorn ballad, but Adam didn’t write lovelorn or pathetic.

When he opened his eyes, Clint was standing in the control room, gesturing wildly, not paying any attention to the coffee in his hands as it slopped over the rim of his cup.  Adam saw Tommy duck.  Lisa was there beside him, pulling him back and Adam ran to the door.

"...hell do you think you are?  This is expensive equipment.  You'd better not have damaged the master," Clint raged.

Tommy was clutching his cheek.  Adam was in front of him in a nanosecond pulling his hand away.  His cheek was red and wet and he didn't want to open his eye.  Adam snapped his fingers and Monte handed him a baby wipe.  Adam blinked at it but wiped gently at Tommy's eye.  Tommy flinched but let Adam check him over.

"We need to get back to work.  This song isn't going to sing itself, people," Clint growled.

Adam ignored him, focusing instead on Tommy and watching his bio-monitor carefully as it ran a diagnostic.  Amber danced across the display as Tommy's adrenaline levels spiked as his system upped his dopamine levels.  There was no damage to the eye from what he could tell, but he'd still prefer to get it checked out by a medic to be safe.

"Back in the studio, 'Fyre."

"No."  Adam turned to face Clint, who was standing there with his mouth open and just staring at him.  "We're done for the day."

"I say when we're done, not you," Adam didn't move, just stared down at the man, his expression dangerously neutral.

He caught the still open nanite port on Clint’s arm and the dilated pupils and sneered.

"Go finish frying your last braincell. We're done." Adam was adamant.  "Lisa, LP, take Tommy to the closest ER and get him checked out.  His 'monitor says he's okay, but his eye is a little red and I want him to get looked over.  Get reception to organize a driver for you.  Monte, sit with Spence, see what we've gotten saved so far.  When I come back, I want a rundown of how it sounds, alright?"

Tommy was bundled out of the room by an angry Lisa.  LP grabbed their bags and Adam slipped him a chip with more than enough money on it to cover any medical expenses that Tommy could have. 

"You can't do this," Clint tried again, but Adam just turned to look at him.

"I've put up with a lot of shit from you, but this," he pointed to the door, "this goes beyond what I'm willing to put up with.  I'm going to see Case right the fuck now and tell him that this just isn't working out."  Adam fixed Clint with a solid glare.  " You come in here, throw a temper tantrum and splashing coffee around.  You're out of line and if I see you anywhere near me or my people again, you're going to wish you'd never signed up with Gunfire."

Adam stormed up the four flights of stairs to Case's corner office.  Case's secretary, Veronika was on her feet as the door swung open, but Adam wasn't in the mood to listen.  He dodged her and pushed open the door to Case's office.  Case was behind his desk, an old fashioned phone balanced between his ear and shoulder as he tapped away at a keyboard on his desk, looking up at the holographic projection of the guy he was talking to.  He looked up when Adam walked in and dismissed Veronika with a wave of his hand.  Adam leaned over Case's desk, fists against the hardwood surface and debated just pressing the cancel button on Case's phone.

"I'm going to call you back later, Jenkins," Case said.  "Something's come up here and I have to deal with it.  Veronika will call you to reschedule."  He clicked the phone back into its cradle and the old fashioned interface fizzled back into the desk as the projection shut down.  He looked up at Adam.  "You look pissed.  What happened?"

"Clint happened," Adam snarled.

"Okay, take a seat.  Tell me what's wrong."

Case looked genuinely concerned and Adam pulled up the display of his voice stress analyzer, leaving it running at the bottom of his eye.  He needed to know that Case had his back on this otherwise, he was walking and taking his entire fucking band with him.

"Tommy is on his way to the ER to be checked over.  Lisa and LP are with him."

Case was on his feet, his cell phone in his hand.  Adam's eyes flicked to the phone and Case put it down.

"What happened?  Is he okay?  Shit, I gotta call HR and make sure that we're picking up his tab."

"It's covered.  That idiot of a producer you stuck us with started waving his hands around and got him in the face with hot coffee," Adam's voice rose and he struggled to keep it level.  "I called it for the day.  I'm not working with him one second longer, and neither are any of my guys."

"'Fyre, you've got to..." Case started but petered off as Adam leveled a glare at him.

"I don't have to do anything, Case.  I signed these guys up.  I sat through days of auditions, I listened to more people play than there are cops in the dome and I fought for _these_ guys.  I put them in the same room as that bastard and that means that I'm responsible for Tommy being hurt," Adam ground out the words, "Your producer may be one of Gunfire's best, but if he can't keep his temper then I'm not letting my guys go near him again."

"'Fyre, I'm sure that we can talk about this," Case tried again but Adam wasn't in the mood to be reasonable.

"Case, I like you, and I'm grateful that you signed me, but if your guys are putting the music above the health of the people they've got working with them, then that's a deal breaker.  I'll take my guys and walk.  You know I will."

"You can walk," Case sat down in his chair, collapsing almost as he scrubbed his hand over his face, "They can't, 'Fyre.  Gunfire will bankrupt them if they try." 

Adam's eyes narrowed.  The voice-stress analyzer said Case wasn’t lying but Adam didn’t trust him to be telling him the whole truth.

"I’m sorry, ‘Fyre, really I am, but they're under contract to Gunfire just like you are and if they walk, Gunfire's lawyers will take them for everything they own."  He held up his hands, "I'm not saying that it's right.  I'm not saying that I support it, you know I don’t.  I'm just telling you how it is.  Gunfire holds their contracts and if you walk, the execs will make them work every piece of crap job from now until they're old and grey, 'Fyre.”

Adam tapped a finger on the desk, his mind working fast as he tried to think of some way around it.  Case was trying his best but he wasn’t getting anywhere.  He wasn’t a VP so they didn’t listen.  Maybe DEx could do something, work their way into the system and erase the contracts.  No, too risky.  This was a corp.  They had enough people that simply erasing the contracts would be noticed.  Particularly if Adam did walk out the door.  No.  He had to be smart.  He had to think like a corp.  The answer came suddenly and Adam smiled.  He sat down on one of the chairs in front of Case's desk and steepled his fingers.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Case frowned.

"Okay," Adam's smile grew wider.  "Then let’s change the rules.  Transfer their contracts to me.  I'll buy them out.  They work for me.  I work for you.  Simple."

"Not simple," Case shook his head.

"Don't see why not," Adam practically purred.  "Corporations do it all the time.  I'll buy their contracts, handle their wages and benefits and in return, you get a single point of contact.  Me.  I sit in on the meetings and then I cascade it down.  I'll do your publicity events, I'll jump through the hoops but they get the choice.  Monte's got newborns.  He's not going to want to go to every event you've got scheduled in.  Lisa's already been told to cancel a holiday that she's booked because it clashes with an award show.  We haven't even released a single yet, and already Gunfire is making demands of them.  You signed _me_.  You'll still keep me but I'll keep them."

Case didn't look fully convinced but he wasn't saying no.  That was an achievement as far as Adam was concerned.

"I'll need to look into it."

"You do that.  I'll be down in the studio.  I left Monte to see what state the master is in and to see what we need to do to get it ready for release.  I'm not sure why you picked that song, but if that's what you want us to record, then that's what we'll record," Adam shrugged.  "Let me know when you talk to legal about the contracts and I'll call Firecracker to get the details worked out."

Case nodded and Adam left him to it. 

Adam made his way back down, pulling up his phone menu and dialing Lisa.  The phone was answered straightaway but all that he heard at the other end was a cacophony of cursing and a clatter of something metallic hitting the ground.  It was another minute before Lisa actually answered.

"He's fine," she sounded harried, "Just doesn't like the doctor they stuck him with.  The guy looks about thirteen.  I don't even think he's started shaving yet, and I'm damned sure that he doesn't know his ass from his elbow.  LP's talking to the nurses about getting someone better but the guy just won't back off."

Adam didn't like the sound of that, but before he could say anything, he heard a scream of pain and then Lisa apologizing insincerely.

"Oh sorry, doctor, was that your foot?  How clumsy of me, and in these heels.  Perhaps you should get someone to look at that.  Nurse.  I think Doctor Kid here needs an x-ray or something."

Adam laughed.  Lisa reminded him of Allison and Kris and Drey all pressed into one and that was a dangerous combination. 

"Honey, be glad I like you or else I'd be making you buy me a new pair of boots," Lisa told him.

"Lisa, for that, I will buy you two pairs.  Six inch heels made of pure steel," Adam laughed. 

"I'm going to hold you to that, honey," she answered, "Gotta go now.  LP flirted up a new doctor and boy, is she hot!  Talk to you later, 'Fyre.  Momma's gotta make a good impression."

The connection cut and Adam stared at his inner-eye display.  The tone beeped three times and disappeared.  If Lisa was flirting with the doctors, then Tommy was probably fine.  Otherwise, Adam was going to be pissed.  He'd call her again in a few minutes just to make sure, but for now, he had to check on Monte.

When he arrived down at the studio, Clint was outside, banging on the door and screaming.  Security guards stood back, watching and edging closer whenever they had a chance.  People looked out from neighboring rooms and ducked back in as they saw the wall of security guards. 

Adam was grateful for the dampers built into his cyber audio modules because Clint was hitting notes that only teenaged pop princesses and trained opera singers should hit.  Piezzo stood to one side, an eyebrow raised as he watched Clint.  Adam nodded to him and Piezzo raised his paper coffee-cup in return.

"Should have known you'd be involved in this somewhere.  You know before they signed you, I had a quiet life?  Not anymore though.  Seems one of your boys locked Clint out of the recording studio," Piezzo said.  "Got a few calls about the disturbance and decided to take a walk down here.  He's been going like that for the last twenty minutes.  Don't know what some of those words mean, and not sure I want to know, but I'm sure that some of those things are physically impossible."

Adam smirked, "Well, yeah, but I suppose if you're motivated enough and your partner has their spine taken out."

Piezzo looked at him, shuddering, "What you do with your sex life is your business, man, but I just had lunch.  I'd like to hold onto it a little longer."

Adam nodded and looked at Clint, "You got a medkit on you?"

"Yeah.  He high again?"

Adam nodded, "Got any tranqs in there?  Or a detox patch?”

"Couple," Piezzo nodded and pulled out the kit, flipping through the slap patches until he got to the sedatives.  "What are you planning?  You know we can’t touch him, right?  The Board will have the jobs of whatever man takes him down."

"It's not really healthy for a man of his age to be that shade of purple," Adam smiled.  "It's for his own good, really."

Piezzo rolled his eyes but he handed over one of the patches.  Adam fingered it for a second, pulling off the plastic protector pad and holding it carefully to avoid transference. Piezzo gestured to his men and they pulled back, opening up an approach vector for Adam. 

Adam watched Clint and then, as Clint started banging again, Adam dodged in and slapped the patch on the guy’s neck.  Clint noticed Adam for the first time and started swinging.  Adam dodged easily. Then the sedative started to work, Adam had to catch him as he stumbled and fell forward.  The guards around him moved in, helping to restrain Clint.  Piezzo opened the door to one of the other rooms off the corridor and Adam laid Clint out on a couch.  Hopefully, by the time he woke up, he'd be back to his normal asshole self.  He left Clint to Piezzo.

Adam knocked on the studio door, "Monte, it's 'Fyre.  Clint's taken care of."

The lock clicked and Monte stood there, looking out nervously.  Adam pushed him back into the room and settled him back down in the chair.  Piezzo looked in but left moments later, satisfied that they weren't doing anything that he needed to know about. 

"So, what have we got?" Adam asked.

Monte's eyes flashed to the door again, "Silicone Heart is about as done as it's going to be, I think.  We might try rerecording the drum line but apart from that, I think we've gotten it as far as we can with Clint's interpretation of it.  The other song we recorded at lunchtime?  Well, I've just finished merging it together and it sounds good, man, really good.  You've got to hear to it."

Monte tapped a couple of buttons and music filled the control room.  Adam's foot tapped to the heavy base beat as he listened to the vocals, divorcing himself from the track and just listening.  Monte was right.  It was surprisingly good, especially for a song recorded over twenty minute session over lunch.  Adam clapped Monte on the shoulder, smiling.

"That's awesome, man, thanks for the work.  Can you send me a copy?"

Monte nodded and tapped a couple of buttons.  A file transfer popup appeared in Adam's vision and he flicked his eye over the save icon.  As soon as it hit one hundred percent, Adam pulled up the file's menu and flicked forward.  His heart skipped a beat as he hesitated.  He copied in Kris' email address.  Adam thought the song was good, but at the same time, it was Adam, open and vulnerable and with everything on show and he didn't know if it was good enough to send to Kris.  He wanted it to be perfect.  Anything less and it wasn’t worthy of Kris.  This was the first time that he’d written a song _for someone_ and he was nervous.  No, he shook his head.  Kris would love it.  Adam wrote it for him and for that alone, Kris would love it.  Closing his eyes, he flicked the send button.


	17. Chapter 17

"So," Drey said in the chirrupy tone of someone who's just woken up from a nap, poking his head up from behind a stack of papers and fabric swatches.  "What else do we need to do?"

Kris rubbed his eyes and tapped at his deck.  "Let's see.  Photographer?"

"Will be there at eight," Gee confirmed.

"Location?"

"Cleaned and ready," Scarlett chirruped.  "And passed with the Grumpy Merc (TM) Seal of Approval!"

Gee looked over at her from where he was leaning against the wall with an eyebrow raised and Scarlett waved her middle finger at him.

"You made me walk all over that stupid warehouse for four days in _heels_ , buster.  You do not get to give me shit."

"Set?" Kris asked over Gee's answering growl.

"Painters finished an hour ago," Cheeks thumbed his phone. "Gypsy says it'll be dry by twelve."

"Catering?" Glitch interrupted as he straightened up.

"Sorted," Gee grunted.

"Props?" Kris added the leather cuff he'd been working on to the box in front of him.

"We're good to go," Glitch confirmed.  "Actually, we've been good since yesterday, but someone-" he rolled his eyes at Drey's stack, "-wanted to be sure that we had enough of the branded handcuffs for the close-ups."

Kris nodded and another item on the flashing to-do list went green.  "Make-up?"

"Haely and Nasri are ready and they'll be there from seven," Scarlett's friend Karly said.  She was putting the finishing touches to the handle of a whip with her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.  "They got all their stuff over to the warehouse and set it up this afternoon.  Haely says all they need now is themselves and their 'canvases' - I think that's us, guys - and they are ready to rock!"

"Lighting?" Gee looked pointedly at Kris.

"Done," Kris said with justifiable pride.  It had taken two days of crawling around with wires and three sniping techs who had the most exacting and arbitrary standards Kris had ever heard but he and Glitch had managed it and the suite were currently devoting 30% of their run-time to watching all the circuit breakers.  "Everything the lighting guys wanted and a back-up generator.  We also got the network connections set up and the hub there is running a stripped down version of the firewall from here with external access to the backup servers only."

Cheeks interrupted Gee's increasingly blank expression, spinning his phone idly as he did.  The coffee-maker was deep in the cleaning cycle and Gee had confiscated the second sack of coffee beans on the basis that they would need to sleep to be useful the next day.  Cheeks had been running errands back and forth since ten; Kris was giving him ten minutes before he crashed and he glanced over at Scarlett who was watching Cheeks with narrowed eyes.  She caught his eye and nodded and Kris relaxed.

"Haely's handling the hairdressing too, right?"  Cheeks sounded like he normally did at least.  Kris upped his estimate to fifteen minutes.

"Yup," Karly nodded.  "He's says we're only going to need two because we want to look consistent and he's got a couple working for him that he says are solid.  Haely's a genius with this stuff and, like, Nasri says they're solid."

"Cool," another item turned green and Kris moved onto the last section.  "Okay, so how many of your assistants are still willing to talk to you?"

"Huh?" Drey's head popped back up over the stack and he blinked at Kris.  "What?  Assistants?  I don't think any of them can't talk?"

"But are they talking to you?" Kris prodded. 

"Why wouldn't they be?" Drey tipped his head to one side and blinked.

"Three hours on one seam," Kris started.

"Fifteen coffee runs before you told them which shop they should go to?" Glitch chimed in.

"Using Trixi's purse as a pin cushion," Scarlett said.

"Forgetting to let Trixi take her phone out of her purse before using it as a pin-cushion," Karly amended and they all nodded.

"The Frills Incident," Gee said flatly and there was a pause before everyone nodded.

"Yeah..." Kris shrugged.  "That's kinda a good reason for them to never talk to you again."

Drey pouted and Gee relaxed enough to shake his head at Kris.  "They'll be there."

"And I know all the clothes are finished," Kris pre-empted Drey's reach for the rack closest to him.  "No, no more tweaks.  The outfits are _done_."

"Amen," Glitch and Scarlett applauded then high-fived.  Kris rolled his eyes.

"Okay, one last thing and we're officially ready to start," Kris leaned back in his chair to poke Cheeks.  "Extras?"

"Hmm?" Cheeks jerked upright.  "Oh, extras, yes.  Fifty-five of Madame's finest, Madame and her two favorite toys.  They'll be there from nine.  They're being picked up by Hacksaw at eight from the club.  Madame promised that she'd discipline any of them who were late."

"Sounds like that's in hand," Kris glanced at his list again.  "And that's everything.  We are officially ready to start the shoot."

"Except for the part where sixty percent of the models are passing out," Scarlett said dryly.  "And I think our designer is already unconscious."

Gee looked over at where Drey had disappeared behind his stack and frowned.  A second later there was a snuffly, drawn-out snore and Kris and Scarlett cracked up.  Gee huffed.  "You need a ride?"

"Nah," Scarlett snorted. "I brought the Jeep."

"Planning to go home by way of the Merc District?" Kris asked wryly.  Scarlett's Jeep had been her first car more than fifteen years before and, as she put it, the only original part left was the ignition socket.  Everything else had been relentlessly upgraded; Kris had seen high-security corp tanks with less armor.  Of course, most of them weren't painted bright red.

"I've been on nights out with these two before," Scarlett smirked.  "They get heavier with every step.  I'm not dragging them further than I have to."

"Jay?" Gee quirked an eyebrow.

"It's not that late," Kris shrugged.  "We'll grab a cab.  It'll take an hour to clear the Dome anyway."

"You sure?"

"I've been drinking with him," Kris parroted Scarlet's words.  "I know exactly how to manage his scrawny ass."

"Call when you're home," Gee folded his arms.  "Or I'll find you."

"Sure thing," Kris said easily as he poked Glitch upright.  Gee had a cab waiting at the curb by the time he'd walked Glitch through the maze of props and outfits and crates.  Kris got Glitch propped up in the backseat and took out his phone.  His wrist-comp had lost its charge hours before and it was in standby but the suite obligingly sent an update through his phone.  Adam was at home but asleep.  Kris' finger dropped from the call button and he sighed.

God and the 'Net knew that Adam needed the sleep but Kris had been hoping to get back in time to have more than a half-assed conversation with more yawning than talking.  Kris was getting up earlier than Adam these days and Adam was staying late to work on the song that the company thought would be perfect for his first single.  Kris disagreed.  _Silicone Heart_ was not a Silverfyre song - it was slow and weepy and ... whiny.  The first time Kris had heard it, there had been potential but after nearly three weeks of hearing snatches of it in the shower and endless loops of it in the background of every call and waking up in the middle of the night because Adam was humming it in his sleep, Kris outright hated the stupid song.

He flicked through to the music program and hit play as he put in the earbuds.  Listening to Adam's singing wasn't making their latest near-miss any easier but at least it drowned out Glitch's snoring.  Kris settled in against the window and watched the city lights fly by.  It seemed like no time at all before they were stumbling into the elevator under Clem's watchful eye.  Kris got Glitch through his own front door and stumbled into his own apartment.  All the lights were out but Kris managed to make his way into the bedroom without tripping over anything.  Adam was a warm lump on the far side of the bed and it took three tries to get his stupid jeans open.  Kris was on the point of just giving up and sleeping in the damn things when the buttons finally popped free.

Kris stripped off his shirt with a sigh and worked himself under the covers with the last of his co-ordination.  He was already starting to slide under when the mattress dipped and Adam rolled close, arm settling around Kris' waist.  Adam's breathing didn't change but Kris relaxed.  He was asleep before he could form a thought.

Kris woke up the next morning to an empty bed with Adam's warmth lingering in the sheets.  The sun was only just turning the grey skies to silver and Kris already wanted to bite something.  He needed two cups of coffee just to shower and dress.  He didn't bother with breakfast, grabbing a fistful of energy bars from the jar on the counter and going across to bang on Glitch's door.  Glitch was sleepy sullen and mostly silent during the cab-ride over.

The warehouse was huge, several thousand square yards of space - DEx had hidden five helicopters here once - but somehow it was still full of nervous energy.  There were already dozens of technicians and general staff swarming around.  It didn't take more than a glance to spot the cause of the tension.  Gee was waiting for them just inside the door with a nervous young man who must have been the photographer fidgeting beside him.  He was barely half Gee's size and lacked the bulk to even compare.

"Morning, Gee," Kris nodded.

Gee grunted and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  "Coffee's to the left.  Haely wants you in make-up in five."

"Make-up is..?"

"Purple tent in the corner," Gee said.  "This is Brady."

"Hey, good to meet you, man," Kris held out his hand.  "You're the photographer, right?"

"Yeah," Brady's hand was sweaty and his smile was nervous but both of those were standard symptoms for strangers meeting Gee for the first time.  "You're Juniper, the lead model?"

"I'm Juniper," Kris nodded.  "Lead model might be overstating it.  This is Glitch-"

Glitch shook hands and smiled and Kris spotted a taxi.

"-and that must be the rest of them.  Come on over and I'll introduce you."

"Thanks," Brady straightened a little as they left Gee behind and Kris shared a rueful glance with Glitch.  The cab was idling just on the side of the street and Karly was squirming out of the back seat.  Kris could see one of Cheeks’ feet sticking out and the blazing red of Scarlett's hair as they tried to sort out which limbs belonged to which model.  Kris mentally upped the amount of caffeine they were going to need as he led the way across to the door.

"Listen, don't let Gee scare you too badly.  He's a perfectionist but he's not actually a monster," Kris said.  "Just do your job."

"Okay," Brady nodded, chewing at his lip.  "I just - I've never done fashion photography before and I'm not sure I know what he wants.  Fashion isn't really my area and I mean, I've told him that but..."

"I've seen your work," Kris said reassuringly.  "You'll do fine and Gee wanted this to be different - he hired you because he liked what you did."

There wasn't time to say any more because Cheeks rolled out of the cab and stretched and Brady's attention zeroed in on the tiny sliver of skin that was bared just above Cheeks' belt buckle.  Brady went pink and his eyes dropped to the ground as Cheeks turned to yawn in Kris' general direction.

"Guys," Kris called as Scarlett shoved Cheeks forward and stepped out of the cab.  "Come meet Brady, he's our photographer."

Scarlett shook Brady's hand and Kris liked him a little more when he kept his eyes on her face, not the too-soft t-shirt that clung to her chest.  Brady didn't laugh when Karly tripped over her own feet and he smiled when she cracked a lame joke about cab fare.  He didn't smile when he shook Cheeks' hand and he let go almost immediately, stammering a 'Good Morning' that made Kris trade smirks with Glitch.

Brady was a little too timid by Cheeks' normal standards but judging by the wicked smile, he was definitely interested.

"No fucking the photographer," Kris murmured when Cheeks pulled him close for air-kisses.  "Gee will have your balls."

"Only if I fuck up the shoot," Cheeks crooned, actually kissing him on the cheek.  "So a week of foreplay, then mind-blowing sex!  Everyone wins!"

"Don't give Gee an excuse to shoot you," Kris said, resigned.  It wasn't like he could actually stop Cheeks from getting shot but at least he could say he'd tried.

Gee loomed up behind them.  "Models need to be in make-up."

"I thought we got dressed first?" Glitch objected.

"Let's not argue with the cranky merc," Kris towed him over in the direction of the lavender tent.

Getting made up for this shoot was harrowing.  Haely was, from what Kris could see, a perfectly nice man who turned into a hyper-efficient perfectionist armed with torture devices that would make even the most twisted street-merc flinch.  He despaired - loudly - over Kris' ink and lectured him on the difficulties of covering up light tattoos.  Most of them could be dimmed but Haely had to tape over the silver flames tattooed on his ring finger to hide it.

Kris learned very quickly that Haely was not interested in anything Kris had to say, that eyebrow pencils were _sharp_ and that there were a surprisingly large number of places that he could be jabbed with a pencil that wouldn't show on camera.  Kris' input on what his makeup should consist of was also not welcome.  Drey had a spirited argument with Haely about halfway through so what felt like Kris' entire face got scrubbed off so Haely could start again.  Haely's cursing got even more inventive and Kris tried really hard not to move or breathe too heavily.

By the time, Andrea the hairdresser started work, Kris was perfectly still.  His sensei should offer Haely a job; Kris had never mastered the art of stillness so completely even during his most intense training.

He didn't dare to move until all the pulling and tugging and poking stopped and he opened his eyes tentatively to blink at the mirror.  Haely had started with garish colors, Kris had seen the palette before Haely threatened to staple his eyes shut if he didn't stop opening them before the eye-shadow had dried.  The make-up he was actually wearing was the opposite of garish; a faint gloss of gold over thick lines of kohl that made him look...different.  His lips were a drier, darker shade of red-pink that complemented the gold.

"It looks...cool?" Kris said tentatively.  Haely snorted, leaning in over his shoulder.

"Ungrateful diva," he regarded Kris' reflection with a hand on his hip.  "You're looking hot, pretty boy, and much as I hate back-seat artists, the coloring is going to work."

"I'll take your word for it," Kris shrugged and a yawn took him by surprise.  "Sorry, I'm under-caffeinated."

"You're doing okay for a sleep-walker," Haely grinned.  "Time to get you dressed."

Wardrobe was a bewildering whirlwind and the two extra hours Scarlett insisted they spend tagging the damn garment bags turned out to be the best idea anyone had ever had ever because Drey was having hysterics and Gee was getting more and more grouchy and the fucking assistants drank all the coffee and didn't make a fresh pot.

So when Gee's hand landed on his shoulder, Kris came within half a centimeter of biting him.  He was dressed, a fairly casual outfit to start - clean lines and sheer fabric - and Gee jerked a thumb over his shoulder.  "Photographer's freaking."

"About what?" Kris asked but Drey shrieked and Kris lost Gee's attention completely.  Kris sighed, rubbing uncomfortably at his bare wrist and stepped out of the Wardrobe area.  Gee was probably right to delegate this; Brady didn't look like the kinda of guy who could handle a pissy Gee.  Actually, by that criteria, Kris was the only person in the whole shoot who qualified which meant he was going to have to handle Brady's latest disaster before anything else went wrong.

"When did I sign up for this?" Kris wondered aloud.

"J-Juniper?" Brady's voice came from the far side of the curtains that divided the set from the preparation areas.  "I-could you come here?"

"Sure," Kris jogged over, stopping dead on the far side of the curtains.  The set looked...well, the set looked like a decadent throne room with dark leather and rich silk and more chains than a hardware store.  Someone - Kris' money was on Scarlett - had lit scented candles that filled the air with musk and spice.  The main lights were on, casting stark shadows and making the whole set look surreal.

Brady's cameras were neatly lined up on tripods.  Kris ran an experienced eye over the set-up and nodded.  It looked like Brady had all the angles covered.  There were people too, clustered together around a wrought iron pole with candles and dressed in what were clearly new clothes.  Kris could see Madame, her lips pursed, and he paused, running an eye across the cluster of unfamiliar faces and not liking what he saw. 

"This isn't going to work," Brady wailed and Kris winced.  He couldn't really argue, looking around the set was proof enough.  Every single person on set was watching the camera, stiff and uncomfortably aware of the implied audience.  "If they don't relax, this isn't going to _work_!"

"Deep breath," Kris patted his shoulder.  Brady was right but having the photographer freaking out on top of everything else was really not going to help.  "Go check the set-up.  I'll handle this."

Brady seemed to be reassured, going off to annoy the lighting techs and Kris was left standing in the middle of a room full of prickly people armed with floggers, whips and whatever the pointy things were.  Okay, he could do this.  Kris snapped his wrist-comp back into place and looked over at Glitch, waving him towards the sound system.  Glitch nodded and disappeared behind one of the heavy drapes.  Kris licked his lips and hopped up on to the main stage, immediately becoming the centre of attention.

"Morning, folks,"  Kris forced a smile, trying not to count the dozens and dozens of eyes staring up at him.  "Welcome to the shoot."

Glitch emerged from behind the drape with the other models in tow.  Kris beckoned them up and a little of the tension eased but the crowd of extras still looked to be one step from the door.  That wasn't good enough.

"Let's warm things up a little," Kris held a hand out to Scarlett, eyes flickering over the command prompts.  "You all know how to dance, don't you?"

The suite had already taken over the audio system - thanks to Glitch's quick modification - and right on cue, the music started.  Kris knew the song immediately but then the only music the suite had access to was the library Kris kept on his wrist-comp.  The song that started was the new one - the one Adam had written for him - and the atmosphere started to shift before the end of the first bar.

Scarlett's hand tightened around his and she winked as Kris deliberately stepped back, tugging her into the middle of the stage.  With Adam's voice purring over the speakers, it was easy to just relax into the music and dance.  Kris had never really been that interested in dancing; he had been king of the awkward shuffle/sway to the beat.  Adam had insisted on dragging him onto _Idolize:NYC_ 's dance-floor night after night until dancing was fun and effortless instead of a terrifying social obligation.

And Kris could definitely dance to this song.  He loved this song; it felt like watching Adam igniting a crowded dance-floor: like he was hanging on as Adam wove through the city at a hundred miles an hour.  It was that moment when Adam looked at him like Kris was the only person in the world.

Scarlett swayed against him and Kris spun her neatly into the center of the stage.  Glitch must have gotten the lighting techs on side because while the stage was fully lit, the rest of the set was dim and as the color filters changed, it began to feel like a real club.  They had to dance through three repetitions of the song before the mood relaxed and Kris came to a stop with Scarlett leaning into his shoulder.

The set was moving - like a tiny replica of _Idolize:NYC_ on Leather night.  For a moment, they were all just relaxed and having fun.  Then the moment was broken by the click of the shutter and just like that, they were back to work rather than play.

"All right," Brady said.  "Juniper, if you let Haely do your touch up, I think we're ready to start."

Kris was nervous for the first hour but Brady was steady and gave calm, clear instructions.  He took the time to explain what exactly he was going for.  Kris was being established as the 'King' of the shoot which meant he needed to dominate every shot he was in, even if he wasn't actively doing anything when the shutter clicked.  Brady listened when Kris asked questions and was always willing to listen when any of the models had suggestions.

"You're playing the same...character, I guess is the best word," Brady explained.  "For the whole shoot.  What we're doing today is setting up those characters and how they interact so that'll be consistent across the whole shoot."

It took five or six hours before Brady - and more importantly, Gee - were happy with the interplay between the models.  Kris was already established as the King of the Castle with Glitch playing an eager, timid sub.  Cheeks was the brash but biddable switch while Scarlett was Queen to Kris' King and Karly was the sweet-faced innocent.

"The important thing is that the audience have someone that they can relate to," Brady explained over lunch, waving his hands enthusiastically.  "We're not limited to one magazine so we have to keep a consistent story going through the whole collection so people recognize you and get drawn in from that."

"And build up Dorsett Gibson's name recognition," Kris nodded.  "That makes sense."

"We're aiming for a story or at least, we want to suggest a story," Brady said, so carried away by his enthusiasm that he didn't notice Cheeks settling onto the sofa beside him.  "The idea is that the shots should look like snapshots from this lush, fantasy world and-"

He squeaked a little when Cheeks sprawled out over his lap and grinned up at him.  Brady went pink and stammered wildly.  Scarlett, thankfully, took mercy on him and moved the conversation to the new collection itself and how well they thought it was going to do.  Kris got called away to help translate for the lighting guys who were struggling to understand Gee's monosyllabic grunts, then he had to spend five minutes calming Drey down and soothing ruffled feathers among the Wardrobe team.

It set the pattern for the rest of the week; Kris quickly became the natural mediator between Gee, Drey and the small army of assistants who actually made things happen.  Inevitably, that meant that Kris was now vitally necessary for every single session, even when he wasn't actually in the shot.  He spent a lot of time hanging around and texting Adam while he waited for the next crisis.

The other models got to start late every other day but Kris was there from beginning to end every day.  He was getting up before Adam stirred and staggering home long after Adam had fallen asleep.  Gee offered twice to put Kris up in a local hotel but it was worth the exhausted cab-rides and insanely early mornings to sleep curled up against Adam's side, even if the only way they were talking now was via an endless game of text and voice-mail tag.

At least Kris was never bored.  Firecracker dropped in a few times a day and was always happy to grab a coffee and a chat.  Madame and one of the Doms had taken a parental interest in him and were happy to spend half an hour, or ten minutes here and there, teaching Kris the proper attitude and protocols.  It helped to flesh out his on-camera persona.  Kris soaked up the advice and insight, adding the necessary quirks and mannerisms to his alternate self and by the third day, Kris was being lectured on the proper use of sex toys and the best knots to use to immobilize his sub like he was a real Dom.

It was very similar to how he'd built the Juniper persona nearly six years before, only with less time and all the dominant traits reversed.  Kris found it easier to just let Juniper slip away entirely but even that was almost a relief.  Strutting onto the set felt like shaking out a cramped muscle and Kris let the relaxation bleed through.

Brady had been a constant source of praise and encouragement since Tuesday and Kris liked being able to shrug aside all the worries about Crusader and Cale's omnipresent disasters and just take control.  Not that it was all sunshine and roses: Cheeks had made a game of pushing Kris' limits and unlike Glitch, Kris didn't have time to climb his boyfriend to let off steam at the end of the day.

On Thursday after four frustrating days of near misses, Adam crowded into the shower behind him and Kris kissed him.  There really wasn't time for this; Kris was already running on the cusp of late and Adam had been up late the night before.  Still, Kris let Adam back him up against the slippery tiles and bite a savage bruise into the dip of his shoulder as they jerked each other off.

"Love you," Adam gritted, hand almost painfully tight as Kris tipped his head back to let Adam bite deeper.

"Love you," Kris echoed, hands clumsy and skidding as Adam jerked against him, spilling into the steady stream of water.  "Love you so much."

He was late.  Kris could not have cared less if he'd tried.  He took his seat in front of the make-up mirror, feeling lazily pleased with the world and everything.  Haely squawked indignantly at the blossoming bruise, pointing it out in Kris' reflection and Kris just smiled at him.  Some guy - not Brady - was fooling around with a camera but Kris automatically tuned out the click of the shutter.  Kris tipped his shoulder up, feeling the faintest twinge of pain and admiring the blue black edges of the bruise.

"JAY!" Drey came rocketing around the corner and latched on, clinging to Kris' shoulders and babbling at high speed.  "OHMYGODDOYOUEVENREALIZEHOW _AWESOME_ THISISGOINGTOBE!!!"

"Drey?" Kris patted him on the head.  "You're talking at light speed again.  Slow down and try again."

"You have to come meet Viki!!" Drey clapped his hands and spun in circles.

"Okay," Kris looked around.  "Who's Viki?"

"Victoria Delicto," a woman's voice came from behind him and Kris craned his neck back to see a tall woman wearing a navy suit with silver pinstripes.  "Features editor for _Vogue_.  You must be Juniper?"

"Yes, ma'am," Kris pushed Drey gently to one side and stood up to offer her his hand.  "Pleasure to meet you."

"I assure you, Mr. Juniper," Viki smiled.  "The pleasure is all mine."

"So," Kris looked back at Drey who was literally vibrating with excitement.  "What brings you out to our little shoot, Ms Delicto?"

"Dorsett Gibson were kind enough to invite me to look over some of the proofs from the last few days," she nodded politely to Drey.  "For consideration for our next issue."

"Oh," Kris hadn't even thought about that part of it but of course Gee would be looking for magazines to publish the photos.  That was the point after all.  "And are you interested?"

"Very, very much," Viki's smile was narrower, more vicious this time.  "In fact we're offering a considerable bonus for exclusive rights."

"That's awesome," Kris said.  "My boyfriend is a huge fan and I know how important _Vogue_ is for establishing a reputation as a leading fashion house."

Viki preened a little.  "We think Dorsett Gibson's decision to return to RPMs is a bold step, possibly even a revolutionary step and we want to devote a whole issue to this shoot."

"I-" Kris really hoped that was a good thing.  Judging by the nearly-inaudible squeal of delight from behind him, it must be.  "That's wonderful!"

"We were also hoping to run a supplementary article on you and the other models?" Viki made it a demand.  "Nothing too in-depth, just about you as a person to let the public know a bit more about you."

"I-sure?" Kris was nearly bowled over again when Drey glomped onto him from behind, squealing happily.  "Let me just check that Brady can spare me."

"I can wait," Viki smiled thinly.

Kris grabbed his wrist-comp off the make-up table and just barely kept his smile in place long enough to get outside.  He clicked his plug in, calling up the chat window immediately and breathing a prayer of thanks that both Val and Glitch were online.  He laid out the situation quick and concisely.

`HIJACK[Juniper]:>> Should we do it? `

`ROOT[Glitch]:> I don't know man, that's a lot of exposure`

`SYS[Val]:> That's exactly why you should do it. `

`HIJACK[Juniper]:>> What? `

`SYS[Val]:> Remember what I said - if you're both famous models, no-one looking for DEx will look twice at you.  Models are vain and pretty and can't bang two brain-cells together, remember? `

`ROOT[Glitch]:> HEY! `

`HIJACK[Juniper]:>> Point. `

`SYS[Val]:>  Just talk about the modeling and the clothes.  They'll think you're too sweet and precious for words. `

`HIJACK[Juniper]:>> Love you too, bitch. `

`SYS[Val]:> =D`

`HIJACK[Juniper]:>> All right.  R, you in? `

`ROOT[Glitch]:> I'm game if you are. `

`HIJACK[Juniper]:>> Let's do it.`

He ejected the plug as he crossed to where Brady was fussing over his camera.  Brady, ever the sweetheart, readily agreed to push back shooting for an hour or so.  Kris promised him a whole vat of coffee and trotted back to let Haely work his magic.

In the end the interview only took about half an hour and Kris talked about Adam for twenty minutes of it.  Viki had somehow gotten her hands on video of them dancing to Adam's new song which naturally led to Kris talking about Adam's music and the tradition of all the models dancing to it at least once every day.  From there, it was easy to talk about Adam's talent and stage presence and how they managed to find time for each other even with their insane schedules.  Viki's photographer took a picture of Kris with his knees drawn up and the silver tattoo around his ring finger glowing and they were done.

The shoot ran for two more days, with Brady calling it a wrap on Saturday afternoon at four to loud cheers and applause.  Firecracker had the VIP section of _Idolize:NYC_ booked for the after party.  Drey and Haely had conspired to have the models looking their very best and Kris was giddy with the sense of achievement and the promise of a party and guaranteed time with Adam.  He didn't even object when Drey, grinning impishly, added a pair of handcuffs; both cuffs on the same wrist.

They were one of the sets that Kris and Glitch had built for the shoot; steel polished as bright as silver, with leather padding and strong enough to hold a full-blown cyber-psycho but the inlayed silver detailing made them look more like high-concept bracelets, particularly with the chain mostly retracted.  They were a familiar weight after the last week and Kris rattled them as he bounced in the back seat of the cab, crowded in by the other models.

Glitch had been talking to Tommy all day, coordinating the band's arrival and the party and Adam had sworn that he would be there.  Kris bounced through the doors to _Idolize:NYC_ at the head of the most fabulous leather gang in history.  He didn't even try to keep the proud smile from his face as he got the drinks flowing and conversations started.  Madame's etiquette lessons insisted that as 'King' of their little game, it was his job to play host.

After the first round, Scarlett dragged him onto the dance floor and there was another cheer as the first bars of ' _Come (With Me)_ ' came over the speakers.  Scarlett - who really was a fantastic dancer - kept him on the floor for six songs before Kris was abandoned in favor of a cocktail.  Kris, still laughing, wiped at his face and looked around.

Drey and Haely were sharing a PADD and talking earnestly while Gee propped up the wall beside them.  Gee nodded to Kris, black eyes drifting back to the crowd.  Cheeks had latched onto Brady as soon as the photographer walked through the door and Kris spotted them backed up against the wall, where the lights were dim enough to hide a multitude of indiscretions.  Karly was sitting at the bar, surrounded by more than a dozen admirers.  Glitch was hanging off Tommy, talking at light-speed and waving his arms while Tommy laughed.  The band must be here.

Kris stood on tip-toe, looking around for Adam.  He couldn't see him and when he thumbed his wrist-comp, the suite listed Adam's location as "`CONFERENCE ROOM 6C: FOURTH FLOOR: GUNFIRE RECORDS MAIN OFFICE`"

Kris frowned.  Adam was still at Gunfire?  His last text, sent nearly an hour ago, had said he was leaving right that second.  What had happened to change that?  He looked around for Tommy but he and Glitch had disappeared onto the dance floor.

"Hey, Jay," he recognized the voice a split-second before Lisa hugged him.  "Rocking party, my man!"

"Hey, Lisa," Kris hugged her back.  "Listen, have you-"

"I was wondering," Lisa swayed a little, giggling.  "The fabulous red-head that you were dancing with?  Is she single?"

"At the moment, yeah," Kris caught her arm when Lisa turned towards Scarlett.  "Have you seen Adam?"

"He got pulled back to a meeting by the suits," Lisa's lip curled distastefully.  "Said he'd be along as soon as he could."

"Oh, okay," Kris let go of her arm.  "Thanks."

"He wouldn't miss this," Lisa's expansive arm-wave took in the whole party and Kris smiled.  "This is a _rocking_ party!"

"Glad you think so.  Have a good night, yeah?"  Kris nodded towards Scarlett and Lisa smirked.

"I plan to," she said confidentially.

Kris hung around the fringes of the party, checking his phone and making small talk whenever someone came over to congratulate him.  There was no message from Adam and he wound up beside Drey and Gee.  The suite flashed an alert and Kris glanced over it.

"`UPDATE: LOCATION{SILVERFYRE(ADAM)} = "BATHROOM, HOME DOMICILE"`"

Adam had gone home?  Kris frowned and he checked his phone again.  No messages, no missed calls and the suite confirmed that his phone was fully functional.  They also confirmed Adam's location, cross-referencing with the apartment's security system.  Adam was at home.

"Jay?" Gee's low voice broke through his distraction.  "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kris rubbed at his plugs.  "It's just..."

"Just?

"...’Fyre's gone home."

"He was supposed to be coming to the party," Drey objected shrilly.  "He promised!  I've been looking forward to him meeting Madame for _weeks_."

"Looks like he's got a better offer," Kris shrugged.  It wasn't really a big deal, he told himself.  Adam might have forgotten to charge his phone or something.  The suite helpfully informed him that Adam's phone batteries were at 68% and he had had full network coverage all day.  Kris chewed his lip.  "I think...I think I'm going to head home myself."

"Need a ride?" Gee was watching him closely and Kris shook his head.

"I'll grab a cab, it's not a problem."

"You can't leave without your party bag!!" Drey dived under the table and Kris blinked.  "We had so much stuff and Gee wouldn't let me keep it and it's all so pretty don't you think?  And-"

"Drey."

"Anyway, I made up party bags for everyone," Drey emerged, brandishing a black canvas bag with D-G printed discreetly in a corner.  "This is yours!  I picked it out myself.  Well, I did most of it but Cheeks took out the chrome cock rings and put in a blindfold which was rude but I mean, he knows you and 'Fyre best so I didn't argue."

"You did good," Gee translated, snagging the bag and handing it over.  "Call if you get into trouble."

"Will do, boss," Kris waved, already threading through the crowd.

Ted had a taxi waiting when Kris finally made it to the door and Kris spent the twenty minute ride to their apartment getting more and more annoyed.  He knew Adam had a lot of meetings but he'd promised that he'd come to the party.  Kris had wanted him to come to the party, wanted to be the one showing off his boy for once.  Instead, not only had Adam blown off the party, he hadn't even called Kris to say he wasn't going to show.

Kris' irritation simmered the whole way up the steps and into the elevator.  By the time he was unlocking the door, Kris was just about ready to start shouting.  He let the door slam behind him, looking around for Adam.

"Hey, babe," Adam's voice came from their bedroom and Kris dropped his bag and the black party bag on the couch as he crossed the floor.  "Welcome home."

Kris stopped in the doorway.  Adam was sitting on the bed, shoulders slumped and towel around his shoulders, hair still dripping and the sheer hopeless exhaustion in his smile dampened Kris' irritation.

"Looking fine, Jay," Adam said, giving him an appreciative once-over.  "What's the occai-oh, shit!"

Kris arched his eyebrows.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, the party!"  Adam let his head tip back against the pillow with a groan.  "That was tonight, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh," Kris leaned against the door.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, babe," Adam dumped his towel down beside the bed, leaving his hair in wet spikes.  "I had the world's worst meeting with the suits and it just kept going and going and _going_ and by the time they finally let me leave, I just needed to get away.  I wasn’t thinking, babe.  I’m so sorry."

"I can see how that'd happen," Kris said, keeping his voice neutral.  Adam looked exhausted, frazzled, miserable and genuinely apologetic.  The sting of irritation was already fading but Kris was still wired and snappish.

"Let me get dressed," Adam levered himself up.  "And we can go..."

"Or," Kris said slowly, inspiration flashing white-hot through the giddy near-exhaustion of a solid week running to keep up with his newly crazy life.  "You can make it up to me right here."

The cuffs clicked as he unhooked the one on top and Adam's eyes snapped to his wrist, the alpha merc shining through the puzzled exhaustion.  Kris held the open cuff on a crooked finger and Adam looked up and laughed.  Rich and silky and...false.  Kris could practically see Adam layering on the Silverfyre mask and the banked, aggressive impulses pushed him forward, free hand braced on the bed between Adam's legs.

Kris kissed him, hard and aggressive and Adam's mouth was slack and surprised but he kissed Kris back.  Adam was really good at kissing and he knew Kris' weaknesses too well and there was a couple of seconds where Kris could have relaxed, let Adam push him onto his back and fuck him.  Instead Kris pushed back into the kiss, refusing to be swept away and felt the split second of utter surrender that Adam didn't stifle.

The click of the cuff as Kris snapped it around Adam's wrist was gun-shot loud and Adam froze, all hard tense lines under him.  Kris pulled back from the kiss, just enough to be able to focus on Adam's face, slack lips and wide eyes.  They were both panting and Adam blinked once, twice before he focused on Kris' face, eyes searching for some clue.  Kris didn't move, didn't close the distance between them even when Adam licked at his lips.  He stayed right where he was, hand braced between Adam's legs and didn't look away.  He wasn't hiding, wouldn't push but Adam's pulse was racing, a thrum against the cuff and Kris' fingers.

They stared at each other, both breathing hard. Kris could feel his heart racing in time with Adam’s but he didn’t move. He didn’t want Adam to give him this, like Adam would have fucked him. He wanted Adam to want this and, as nerve-wracking as it was to just sit and wait, he could feel the first tense clench easing out of Adam. Adam flexed his fingers, testing the cuff. Kris could feel the tug but he didn’t look away. Adam’s eyes were narrowed and Kris didn’t look away. Adam studied his face for a few seconds longer and relaxed slowly. Kris could feel his cheeks heating as Adam sprawled out under him.

"Okay?" Kris checked.

"Hell yeah," this time, Adam's smile was genuinely wicked and he lifted his arms up over his head.

Kris kissed him again, brief and fierce and got the handcuffs secured against Adam's wrists.  It was second nature after a week of shoot and reshoot and Adam's lips were quirked but he leaned up into the kiss as Kris ran light fingers down the damp skin on his arms.  Kris shifted, crooking his fingers in the waistband of Adam's underwear and pulling it down and away.  Adam wriggled his hips energetically to help and Kris brushed a kiss against his knee.

He sat back on his heels, looking Adam over and specifically looking for the tiny hints that Adam wouldn't articulate.  Adam was already most of the way to fully hard, a healthy flush pinking his chest and the faintest glimmer of sweat along his hairline.  He was willing, even eager but Kris kept watching.  A good top is attentive, Madame had said over cocktails, and what they give their partner is not necessarily what they want but it should always be what they need.  Kris looked at the creases at the corners of Adam's eyes, the way his lips turned down and the subtle tension still knotting his shoulders and slid back off the bed to fetch his party-bag.

He was only gone a few seconds but somehow Adam managed to twist himself around enough to peer at the door.  Kris rolled his eyes and tossed the bottle of lube onto the bed.  The bottle was tasteful crystal and cool enough to make Adam yelp and squirm.  The distraction gave Kris enough time to pull out the blindfold and drop the bag back into the corner of the room.  He held the blindfold up, let Adam see it and understand what it was.

"Okay?" Kris asked again.

Adam's tongue darted out to wet his lips and he was still hard, maybe even harder but Kris kept his eyes on Adam's face.  He held the blindfold out, smooth fabric unfolding and watched Adam's eyes go dark before he rasped.  "Okay."

Kris shivered just slightly; he'd made Adam sound like that only once or twice before - raw and hungry and unrepentant. He crossed back to the bed and kissed Adam again. He'd used the same style of blindfold on the set so it only took a few seconds to get it settled in place around Adam's head. Adam's heart-rate picked up again as Kris tied the knot at the back. The blindfold was another Dorsett Gibson set-piece and Drey had insisted that it be merc-proofed. Judging by the way Adam tipped his head back and forth, tracking the tiniest sound, they'd done just that.

Kris dimmed the lights and dialed up the audio system: picking a playlist and writing a quick list of directives to the suite.  The music that started to play was slow, heavy music with a strong bass line and Kris unplugged his wrist-comp, dropping it on the bedside locker.  Adam jumped and Kris kissed the knuckles of his hand, letting his hand rest just under Adam's heart to measure his pulse.  Adam shifted, hands clenching briefly into fists before he relaxed again.

Adam was beautiful; something he would own with a cocky smirk but Kris had never really had the chance to appreciate it like this before.  All the miles of freckled skin and muscle bared and open to his touch and Kris kissed Adam's cheek.

"Beautiful."

Adam tried to kiss him but Kris drew back, turning his attention to Adam's other wrist.  Adam's Eye of Horus tattoo was mostly old-ink, clear black lines with a line of green-blue eyeliner added as a light tattoo.  The skin over the old ink was smooth but as Kris' lips dragged across the curve of the light tattoo, there was the faintest tingle of electricity.  Kris' own tattoos were still dimmed but Adam's tattoo glowed brightly.  Kris moved down along Adam's arm, keeping the contact light and teasing.  Adam twitched and shivered under him.

The lean lines of Adam's arms were all hard with muscle and lightly peppered with scars.  Adam's whole history written on his skin.  Most of them were long since faded but Adam shuddered every time Kris' teeth scratched along the rough patches of skin where the sub-dermal armor was closest to the surface.  Adam's breathing was getting ragged as Kris nipped at his collarbone and Kris glanced up to see that Adam was chewing on his lip. 

Kris watched the restless flex of Adam's hands as he kissed his way down Adam's chest, exploring the tiny imperfections that Adam hated to acknowledge.  Kris scraped one of Adam's nipples with his teeth and Adam shuddered.  Adam wasn't as sensitive there as Kris but the rough area of skin just under and slightly forward of his armpit made Adam thrash against the sheets.  Kris followed the flex of Adam's muscles steadily down. 

Even a year after his retirement, Adam was mostly muscle, lean and strong but his abdomen was softer, yielding under Kris' gentle pressure.  Adam wriggled uncomfortably and Kris lingered, riding out Adam's best attempts to direct him lower.  Adam didn't like being reminded he had the slightest bulge of a belly but Kris loved it.  All the parts of Adam that were conventionally beautiful - his eyes, his lips, his face, his shoulders; those Adam flaunted proudly for the world to see.  His softening belly and the treasure trail that he didn’t bother to wax were hidden.  Kris was the only one Adam let this close and Kris' smile sharpened at the thought.

"Mine," he whispered and Adam jolted like Kris had shouted it.  "All mine."

"Kris..." Adam rasped.  "Baby, please, baby..."

"Shhh," Kris kept going, slow and relentless and relearning the hundred tiny places that Adam was sweetly sensitive.  Adam was hard, straining and pleading in a soft thread of sound that made Kris want to purr.  He didn't touch Adam's cock, left him shivering and pleading as he explored Adam's long legs, where Adam hadn't bothered to hide his freckles and Kris licked experimentally at them to taste.

Adam was begging when Kris finally pulled away, sweating and flushed.  His hair was clinging to his skin in damp clumps and his lips were slick, red and shining.  Kris kissed him, hand closing around Adam's cock and Adam tore his mouth away and howled, body jerking under him as he came.

Kris worked him through it, whispering praise and encouragement as Adam gasped and floundered.  The rush of watching Adam shuddering apart at the seams, helpless with pleasure from Kris' touch was better than three straight shots of boost-tequila.  As Adam's breathing steadied and his heart-rate stabilized, Kris unhooked the blindfold with his free hand.  Adam rolled and shook his head until it was off, blinking dazedly up at Kris.

Kris let go of Adam's cock and settled himself over Adam's thighs.  He licked his hand clean in neat, short swipes because going to wash his hands meant leaving the bed; leaving Adam.  It wasn't intended as a tease but Adam's deep, heartfelt groan made him blush.  Adam was still half-hard, a glowing testament to a cybered merc's shortened refractory period.  Kris sat back on his heels, searching the rumpled mess of sheets for the lube.

"So," Adam said, rocking up against Kris in a lazy rhythm.  "Not that I don't appreciate the view but aren't you a little overdressed for this party?"

"Hmm," Kris looked down at him then resettled himself a little higher on Adam's thighs, close enough that Adam almost had friction as he worked his hips up and down.  Kris looked down at himself.  "I suppose you're right."

He dropped the bottle of lube onto Adam's stomach. Adam made a strangled protesting sound when Kris vaulted lightly off the bed and Kris had to hide a smile. He unfastened the catches on the boots and God bless Scarlett for insisting on easy-release catches. Kris owed her a drink. He kicked his boots off, aware of Adam's hungry stare as he straightened. The music in the background was changing and Kris nearly laughed as the first bars of _'Come (With Me)'_ started to play over the last notes of the previous song. He could dance to this song.

He let his whole body sway into the beat, humming along as he started to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.  This time, he was teasing and Adam's low moan suggested it was working.  His heart-rate was up and as he tugged off the shirt, his tattoos began to light, growing steadily brighter as Kris' respiration quickened.  Kris had never even attempted a strip-tease before but the shoot had made him aware of his body, the way he bent and moved and it was easy to just mindlessly ride the rhythm, singing along with Adam's voice as he shed his party clothes one after another.

When he was finally naked, Kris stopped at the edge of the bed.  Adam was hard again, whining low in his throat and his hands were grabbing greedily at thin air.  His eyes were a little glazed and his mouth was open.  Kris didn't try to resist the urge to kiss him.  Adam kissed back like he was drowning and kissing Kris was the only thing keeping him afloat.

Kris pulled back long enough to crawl back onto the bed, between Adam's legs and popped the top off the lube.  It was thick, wet and clung to his fingers as he slicked them up.  Adam stared down the length of his body, chin on his chest and eyes riveted on Kris' fingers.

"Okay?" Kris asked, leaving glistening fingerprints on the inside of Adam's thigh.

Adam nodded jerkily, hips bucking as Kris' fingers skated further up and he groaned, trying to push closer.

"Okay?" Kris repeated, keeping his fingers just shy of where Adam clearly wanted them.

"Yes, fuck, okay!  Yes!" Adam twisted, hips rutting at empty air.  "Fuck, Kris, _please_!"

"Good boy," Kris praised, pressing his fingers up to trace around Adam's hole.  He could feel the quiver-flutter of it and leaned forward, opening his mouth to Adam's cock as the first finger pressed gently in.

The sound Adam made didn't seem human and Kris could hear the handcuffs rattling against the headboard as he relaxed his throat and let Adam's cock slide deeper.  Normally, when Kris blew Adam, Adam was careful and kept it slow and sweet.  Kris had to work to make Adam push.  Normally.  Now Adam shoved up, greedy and reckless and Kris swallowed around him, feeling Adam's shuddering cry reverberate through them both.

He worked his finger deeper, free hand braced on Adam's hip to feel the slightest hitch or hesitation.  Kris had never done this before.  He knew how it felt to be stretched, discomfort that could be almost painful but promising the good, well-used ache to come.  He didn't know if that was what Adam felt and he took it as slowly as he could bear it, working the tight muscles open and loose.

Adam was hot, burning searing heat and Kris had to swallow again at the thought of how that heat would feel around his cock.  Kris added more lube, fumbling blindly for the bottle and worked his fingers deeper.  He brushed something and Adam jolted, nearly throwing him off and Kris heard him panting, a desperate choppy sound as he bucked up, pushing his cock deeper down Kris' throat and then back, screwing himself harder on Kris' fingers.

Kris concentrated on stretching him, tongue working against the underside of Adam's cock.  The garble of nonsense words and pleas from Adam cut off in a sharp cry and Adam clenched down as he came.  Kris swallowed, rubbing the thumb of his free hand against Adam's sweat-damp hip bone and fingers still working carefully to stretch him.

"Kris," Adam rasped as Kris let Adam's cock slide from his mouth.  "C'mon, fuck! C'mon, babe."

Kris pulled away his fingers, clumsy and desperate.  He felt his own pulse in his dick and the air was thin and super-heated.  Adam brought his legs up to curl around Kris' waist, pulling him off-balance and Kris' hands hit the mattress on a level with Adam's shoulders.

"Okay?" Kris asked, refusing to let Adam pull him any closer.  He searched Adam's face, looking for any hint of a lie.

"Fuck me," Adam breathed.  "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-"

"Adam," Kris' voice cracked a little and Adam blinked.  "Okay?"

"Yes," Adam's legs tightened, urging him closer.  "Okay.  I want you.  I need you.  For fuck's sake, Kris, just fuck me already!"

Kris buried the nearly hysterical laugh against Adam's shoulder.  They both groaned as Kris rocked his hips, sinking into Adam.  He was still so tight even slack and boneless from two orgasms.  Kris kissed Adam's neck and pushed up to watch his face.  Adam was breathing in short, measured gasps, eyes closed and face flushed.  Kris kissed his cheek and Adam turned blindly towards him.  Kris kissed him and felt the way Adam's breath caught and then Adam was biting at his lips and rocking up to meet him and they were moving and oh, oh God, Kris' whole body was straining and Adam was keening against his mouth and everything was happening at once and it was good, so good and Kris was wound tighter and tighter and god, so good!

Kris came back to himself by slow, vague degrees.  Adam was still breathing heavily underneath him and Kris disengaged carefully, reaching up to fumble the cuffs open.  Adam let Kris check his circulation and tuck both arms down against his chest.  Then Kris wobbled over to the bathroom and splashed himself more or less clean.  His knees wouldn't lock properly but Kris managed to make it back with a wash cloth and he got Adam cleaned off before the last of his energy petered out.  He chucked the wash cloth in the general direction of the bathroom and collapsed into bed.

"Mmm," Adam snuggled up to him.

"Okay?" Kris asked, voice slurring.

"Oh, yeah," and Kris could hear Adam's smile, his whole voice rich with satisfaction.


	18. Chapter 18

Adam sat at one of the long tables in the cafeteria, sheets of music spread out in front of him as he annotated and traced the notes caught between the staves.  The cafeteria was quiet but spacious enough for Adam to spread out.  The food was terrible so most people avoided it in favor of the street vendors and small cafés that lined the street outside the compound.  That suited Adam just fine, and gave him the space that he needed to work during what little downtime he had.  There were a couple of other people around; low level admins and security guards on minimum pay who couldn’t afford to go out for food.  They were far enough away that Adam could hum without disturbing anyone.

This was version seven of Silicone Heart and it wasn't an improvement.  If anything, the change in tempo and the new bridge made the song swing even further towards sickly sweet pop princess mix.  He hummed along to the melody, finger tracking the notes.  There were a couple of leaps that left him shaking his head.  It was too sharp, too sudden.  With no lead up, it was scratchy and it wrecked the top line of the song.  Adam scribbled in a couple of bridging notes before a particularly harsh jump. 

His phone beeped, an unknown number flashing up on his inner eye display.  He didn't recognize the number but that didn't mean much these days, and here deep in the heart of Gunfire, Adam didn't want to call on the Helpers.  Every exec seemed to have his number these days and didn't hesitate to call him onto the carpet.  He flicked his eye over the answer button, waiting to hear the click on the other end before speaking.

"Silverfyre."

"Adam?  It's your father."

Adam's eyes closed and he forced himself to take a deep breath.  He knew that he should have changed his number.  Eber was the last person that Adam had expected on the other end of the line.  He tagged the number, adding it to his contact list.

"Eber," Adam kept his voice level, "What do you want?"

"Must you call me that, Adam?" Eber's voice was harsh.

"What do you want?" Adam asked again, hardening his voice.

"I'm wondering how you're progressing on the Mercy situation," Eber was all business, brusque and corporate, just like Adam's every memory of the man.

"It's ongoing."

"That's it?” Ever asked, "You've met with him three times now, twice on patrols and once in that so-called nightclub of yours.  Surely you can tell me more than that."

"Having me followed, Eber?  You might wanna fire whatever flunkie you hired.  I’ve met up with David six times so far."

"Of course not," Eber backtracked.  "David hasn't come home yet.  I've tried calling him but he's refusing to take my calls.  Whatever you're doing you need to step it up."

"I'm not one of your contractors," Adam spat out, "so don't try to order me around.  Last time I looked, David was still talking to _me_.  And as for what I'm doing, I'm trying to make sure he's got the skills to stay alive."

"I don't want him _alive_.  I want him home," Eber snapped back.

Adam said nothing, letting Eber listen to the echo of his own words.  No matter how little Adam thought of his father, Eber didn't mean it.

"I...  I didn't...  I meant..." Eber stuttered.

"I know you're worried about him but at the moment, he's still tied to Mercy. Gotta love those bullet-proof contracts, don’t you?"  Adam wasn’t in the mood to listen to Eber’s justifications.  "I've made my rep work for me, but Mercy still plan to have him on the streets as soon as possible.  He wants to do this and I'm not going to tell him that he can't..."

"I should have known that you..."

Adam cut over Eber, "I can't tell him that because Mercy will just use that to put distance between us and I'll lose the edge I have with him but think about this, Eber.  You've lost two sons already.  Do you really want to push another away?  You can give him every opportunity but if he wants to do something you have to let him; otherwise he will walk right out of your life.  You're corp.  He's not.  I'm not, and every time you tell him what you think of his lifestyle, you put distance between you and him.  Before you realize it, there's no way to bridge that gap.  Back off."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Eber dismissed Adam's words.  "You're not a father.  Unless you have children that you haven't told me about?"

"Given that everything you know about me comes from hired contractors and data runners," Adam laughed bitterly.  "God, Eber.  Are you really _that_ stupid?  You walked out on one family and started another one, and you learned nothing.  Back off.  Let me work.  I know how to deal with corps like Mercy.  This isn't a problem that you can just throw money at.  This is a world that you don't know.  I do.  You came to me for a reason."  Adam shook his head, "I got work to do."

Adam hung up and put a block on the number.  With the pressure at Gunfire, he didn't need the emotional turmoil that was kicked up every time that he thought about Eber.  He closed his eyes and just concentrated on breathing.  He pushed away the sheets and opened his eyes.  He needed to get out and scream, or shoot something.  He needed to cut loose, to get a little wild, but he couldn't do that here. 

He looked at his watch.  There was thirty minutes left on his lunch break.  More than enough time for what he needed.  Gathering up his sheets, he tucked them away and headed for the roof.  There was a small garden on the roof that most people working for Gunfire didn’t know existed.  Adam stepped out of the elevator on the top floor and vaulted up the stairs to the roof access.  Pushing the door open, Adam looked around.  There was no one there.

Perfect.

His eye flickered over his phone icon and he debated calling Kris.  It was probably too early.  Kris had pulled more hours than him over the shoot and he was finally getting caught up on his sleep.  Everything had been different since the shoot, turned on its head and Adam was loving it.  Kris was more forceful, telling Adam what he wanted and taking it.  Adam didn’t have to worry about whether he was being too rough or moving too slow.  Kris had found his voice and Adam loved this new side of Kris.

Adam pulled out his music player and cued up the song that Kris had dubbed _'Come (With Me)'_ and closed his eyes.  His feet tapped to the rhythm and he listened to the intro and took a deep breath.  The words flowed from him, the melody rising and falling with the background music.  He poured everything into the song, letting his frustrations fade as he lost himself to the words.  The world faded to nothing around him, just him and the music.

He wasn't expecting the applause.  He spun, hand tracking to the gun he’d managed to hide from Piezzo’s scan.  There was a smartly dressed woman leaning against the door, a smile on her face.  Adam had seen her around, usually with Case, but he didn’t know her name.  Dressed in an immaculate business suit, there was no doubt in his mind that she was an exec.  This was bad.  Adam straightened up.

"You must be Silverfyre," she stepped forward, her six inch heels clicking against the concrete.

"Hi.  Yes," his smile was carefully sculpted, just real enough to fool anyone who didn't know him, but carefully bland.

She held out her hand and Adam noted her nails, silver and sharp.  He let his thumb slide gently over the silver surface, a passing brush as they shook hands.  He’d thought so; her nails were nanite coated, diamond edged for strength and sharp enough to cut.  These weren't rippers like Cheeks had, edged weapons camouflaged as nails, but rather the fashion equivalent.  They'd still dig deep if she wanted them to but they were useless against armor.

"Lillian Kingston," she introduced herself, "head of publicity here at Gunfire."

"Pleased to meet you," Adam inclined his head a fraction.

It was her eyes that Adam found most interesting, deep blue, shading towards indigo.  Obviously they were cybernetic but they contrasted artfully with her coffee skin.  She would have looked perfectly at home on the pages of a glossy business brochure but here on the roof, it seemed almost incidental.  She was attractive, he couldn't deny that, but she was corp through and through and that made her deadly.  There was an air of authority around her that reminded Adam of Allison on the floor of _Idolize:NYC,_ strutting like she owned the place, or sitting opposite some Johnson who was trying to pull a fast one, totally confident and with a smile that said she knew something that you didn't and you were about to find yourself paying well over the odds for a two buck nail.

"I've been looking all over for you," Lillian walked closer, crowding into his space and drawing a fingernail up his arm.

"I just came up here for some air," Adam shrugged, stepping back.  "If I'd known that..."

"Oh, darling, that's alright.  I could do with a little air myself," she stepped close again, following him.  "You know, when Case told me about his little project, I told him that he was crazy.  I mean, how do you sell street-scum to corps?  Talk shows want pretty, pretty people with perfect teeth and perfect pedigrees, not ex-mercs with sanitized backgrounds."

Adam nodded, not saying anything.  This was nothing that he hadn't heard before and right now, he didn't have the energy to dispute it.  Coming up here had been a stupid idea, one of his worst, and he was just praying that someone would pop through that door and find him before he had to do something that he wouldn't regret in the morning.  He didn't want a confrontation with this woman, not without knowing who she was or what exactly she wanted.  The execs had already made it clear that he was on shaky ground here with Gunfire and the last thing that he wanted was to be tossed out in the cold. 

"But then Case showed me your headshot and everything changed," she smiled and Adam shivered.  "You're charming, you can sing, that's a good start, but then, you do _this_ , and it's all I can do to keep from jumping you."

Adam hastily sidestepped her, holding his hands up in front of him in an effort to fight his natural reflex to go for his guns, "Sorry, ma'am, but I've got a boyfriend.  One that I'm very happy with."

He'd come up here for some peace and a chance to catch his breath.  Five minutes alone, that's all he'd wanted.  Enough time to calm down and put everything back into perspective before he had to dive back into corp politics, but that was apparently too much to ask.

"Oh, I know," Lillian purred, "And he's a cutie pie.  Even hotter than you, and so much in love with you too."

She kept advancing on him and Adam eyed the door, trying to work out if he had time to run for it before she was on him.  Maybe if he kicked in his adrenal booster.  Five seconds for it to come online, another two for it to give him the kick he needed?  Too long.  He couldn't just knock her down and run for it.  That would be the final nail in his career.  Execs and corps were out for what they could get.  Motivated self-interest was what kept their hearts ticking and he wouldn't put it past this woman to scream harassment, pulling up his merc background and telling everyone who would listen that he was nothing but scum.  They'd listen.  They always listened when another exec was the one doing the talking.

"You're going to have to bring him in so that I can plant a major kiss right on his lips." 

All thoughts of escape died with a double tap and Adam turned.  There was no way that Adam was going to bring Kris here.  There was no way that he was putting Kris within sniping distance of this cougar, and if she tried... then fuck his career, he was taking her out.  No one touched Kris.  Not as long as he was alive and packing.

She didn't look at him, just kept talking, "Okay, so recently, Gunfire have been a laughing stock.  An alternate label that lifts artists like you out of the gutter and puts them on a stage, the idea is laughable, but with _this_ , we're on the map, baby boy."

"That's great," Adam kept his tone cool, dangerously so, "I really should get back to the studio.  My break is over."

"I'll write you an excuse slip," she laughed, reaching out to lay a hand on his arm but he rolled his shoulder back before she could touch him.  "I've got a little pull with the company."

"I'm going," Adam said, "Really need to nail the song today."

"Silicone Heart?" Lillian asked, "Forget it.  If I have my way, you'll never sing that song again."

There was a part of Adam that wished that was the case, but there was something going on here, some hidden agenda, and Adam didn't have all the pieces.  Lillian was hitting on him, seriously hitting on him and making oblique movements towards Kris, and the hell Adam was giving her anything just to escape from a bad song.  It wasn't worth it.  He wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize his relationship with Kris.  He'd walk away from Gunfire before he did that.  He'd go back to singing at _Idolize_.  Hell, he’d set up his own label if he had to, but the fuck she was getting her hands on Kris.

"I'm flattered, ma'am," Adam lied though his teeth, "but I'm not interested."

Lillian laughed, deep and full, stepping back.  Her entire posture relaxed and she smiled in a way that lit up her eyes.  Adam pulled back, watching her carefully.  His hand rested on his hip, just inches from his gun.

She clapped her hands, "And you're loyal too.  This is just too perfect.  _Finally_ , something that I can work with.  No sex scandals.  No prior convictions or jail time to cover up.  Nothing to try to keep the reporters away from, or at least, nothing that our runners can uncover. That's all I need.  You," Lillian smiled, "you're going to be amazing, but not with the piece of crap that they've got you singing.  It's the wrong angle, and with everyone calling and asking after you now, we've got to go with something explosive.  Something that is going to launch you like the artist you are.  We've got to break ground with you now that we've got the chance.  None of that cutesy-pie stuff, something with teeth.  Don't you agree?"

Adam looked at Lillian, a little unnerved by her complete personality change.  Someone had been calling about him?  Who?  Was it Eber?  Had Eber called Gunfire?  What had he said?  Who else could it have been?  Adam shook his head, worst case scenarios scrolling through his mind even as he tried to push them aside. 

Lillian just kept talking, "We need to get you back to the studio, get you recording.  Does your band have the sheet music for that song you were just singing?  If they do, we can get you straight in just as soon as Case clears your new producer.  The helicopter should be here shortly.  There's no time to lose, baby boy.  We need to get on top of this while there's still a _this_ to get on top of."

"New producer?" Adam asked.  She was talking fast for Adam to keep track of, and it was an excited patter that needed subtitles. "Hang on a second..." he held up his hands.

"Well, of course, with a release date on Friday, we need the best.  No second stringers for you," Lillian linked arms with him and started dragging him down the stairs.

She was persistent, Adam had to give her that, but she wasn't making much sense.  Adam went with her, hoping that somewhere in her rant there was going to be some hint of what the fuck she was talking about.

"Release date?"

"Well, yes," she pulled out her phone, tapped at it and then tucked it away again, "The network is still down.  I should have expected that. It's been down for the last hour.  Twenty six thousand calls in the last four hours is a little over its capacity. Our PR teams are stressed like you wouldn't believe.  The big boss is on his way in right now to talk to Case and congratulate him on his work, and I have to get you into a recording studio so that you can get this record down in time to hit the airwaves and clubs on Friday night."

Adam stopped, planting his feet.  He could wasn't taking one step further until Lillian started to fill in some holes.  This was getting ridiculous.  She just kept talking but there were no answers in there.  There was an escalated timeline, a new song, new producer and the phone network was crashed.  He couldn’t even see how those things connected to each other and he had no clue what they had to do with him.  Adam pulled his arm free, suddenly thankful for the armored fabric as her nails caught his sleeve.

"Miz Kingston," he addressed her as calmly as he could, "I'm sorry but I'm not going anywhere with you until you start telling me what the hell you're talking about.  What happened to Silicon Heart?  I've been trying to change people's minds on that song for the past three weeks and no one's been listening.  Now, you're telling me that it's trashed.  Why?  What happened?  I need to know and I'm not taking one more step until you start answering my questions."

" _Vogue_ dropped this morning," she answered.

Adam looked at her blankly, "And?"

"And... You're now the hottest new artist on the East Coast.  No, scrub that, you're the hottest new artist on any coast," Lillian smirked, "If we want to catch the wave, we've got to get your single out.  Now!"

"What has _Vogue_ got to do with anything?" Adam asked, frowning.

Lillian looked at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped, "You haven't seen it?"

Adam shook his head.

"Oh-Em-Gee," Lillian started dragging him again, pulling him down corridors until they got to a richly appointed office.

She held out a magazine.  It came in a black plastic liner with ‘ _Vogue_ ’ in grey letters at the top and Adam's eyebrow arched as he looked at it.  It was the sort of liner that they put the top shelf stuff in, the magazines that were too risqué for the prudes.  Adam took it and slowly slid it out, looking at Lillian as he did.  She was practically bouncing, as bad as Drey on a two day caffeine binge.  Adam's eyes flicked down at the magazine cover and he did an honest-to-God double take when he saw it.

There, on the front of the magazine, was Kris.  

He _knew_ that Kris was gorgeous.  There'd never been a question in his mind about it.  Anyone with eyes could see that he was gorgeous.  In Drey’s clothes, he was hot, and here on the cover of _Vogue_ , he was dangerously close to setting the plastic coated paper on fire.  This _must_ have been the photo shoot that he'd been doing for Dorsett Gibson, but Kris had never said anything about _Vogue_.  It was all that Adam could do to pull his eyes away and flick open the pages. 

Kris was on almost every page.

High class armor, street clothes, peek-a-boo leather jeans but the one that had Adam panting was the velvet backdrop three page featurette where he was simply standing, facing the camera and daring all comers to take their shot as the other models lay at his feet, wrecked and pleading.  Adam looked at Kris, his fingers tracing over the ghost of the light tattoo under the sleeve of the tailored t-shirt.

"There's an interview as well," Lillian tried to pull the magazine from his hand but Adam wasn't letting it go that easily.  "Page thirty three.  I swear, when I read that, I just knew that you were going to be the next big thing.  Positive publicity for the company, and a personal review of our latest star.  If all my jobs were this easy, I swear..."

It was beautiful, but the second image...  That just about blew Adam's mind.  It was Kris at a stereotypical make up table, slouched back in his chair and watching through the reflection and there on his neck, standing out in stark contrast on the black and white image, was a hickey.  One that Adam had put there on the one morning during the shoot that they'd managed more than a quick kiss and a wave out the door.  Adam's possessive side purred as he looked at the mark, running his thumb over it as he remembered the arch of Kris' neck and the needy groans as Adam had sucked the mark onto his skin.  He remembered the glare too, and Kris' worry that Gee was going to kill him for letting Adam leave marks.  Adam smiled and wondered how early he could duck out of Gunfire that evening, X-rated plans already filling his mind.

"There's a video," Lillian broke in.

Adam looked up and Lillian tapped at her vidscreen. The video was a little fuzzy  but Adam focused on Kris who was strutting his stuff right there on screen, dancing to _his_ song.  Glitch and Cheeks were there too, right beside him, and even Drey.  There were others there, but it was Kris that held his attention, commanding the whole room as he danced. 

"The site's been down most of the morning, but there were a few people who saved the vid, putting it up on sites around the '‘Net.  A million views already and more every minute.  Your boy is the hottest property in the world right now," Lillian smiled.  "And our phone lines have been overrun by people asking for that song.  So get your pretty little ass down to the studio and get ready for a rollercoaster, Silverfyre.  You've just been launched."

Adam watched the vidscreen for another moment before turning and heading down to the studio.  Lillian stopped him at the door and neatly plucked the magazine from his hand. 

"No newsstand in the city has a copy of _Vogue_ left, so, hot as you are, there is no way you get to keep mine," she smiled, "You got the boy.  I got my copy.  Now scoot!"

Adam rolled his eyes but headed down anyway.  He pulled up his contact list and dialed Kris but the line came back busy.  He sighed.  Of course it would be busy.  Everyone from everywhere would be trying to get hold of him, to congratulate him.  Hell, Gee was probably planning the next shoot and Drey was probably talking about designs and fashions with him.  He could call him again later, when Kris was free.

Pulling up the text menu, he typed in a quick message and pressed send.

LOVE YOU BABE.  DAMN YOU'RE HOT!  ;)

Monte was waiting for him outside the studio, a smile cutting his face in half, "Did you hear? They're flying Maria in from LA and she's going to be working with us. This is _major_.  I mean, she's like the best.  She produced and directed _Metropolis_ , the last great album that Gunfire put out, and now, she's going to be in our studio, with us," he stopped, looking up at Adam, blinking, "Would it be rude to ask for her autograph?"

Adam laughed as Monte paced up and down the hallway, mostly talking to himself.

"If anyone can rescue Silicon Heart, then it's her."

Adam shook his head, "Not Silicon Heart, Monte.  They're scrapping that excuse for a song.  We're recording something new."

Monte's eyes widened.  He let out a whoop, clapping Adam on the back.  Adam looked over Monte's shoulder to see two uniformed couriers walking towards them, briefcases in hand.  Adam caught the glint of light off the handcuff chains on their wrists and the tactical assault rifles hanging from shoulder straps; _ArmaLite AR-237_ 's, well maintained and oiled.  The men’s eyes moved easily, tracking every door.  Adam's hand went back until he could feel his guns, connectors snaking out and clicking in.  They were flanked by security, but that didn't reassure Adam.  He moved, getting Monte behind him. 

"Can I help you guys?" Adam asked, sliding his gun out of his holster.

"Are you Silverfyre?" one of the men asked.

"Yes," Adam nodded.

One of the couriers held out a PADD, "I'll need your thumbprint."

Adam stepped forward cautiously and pressed his thumb to the pad.  The lock on the briefcase handcuff snapped open and the courier handed over the case.  Adam accepted it, handing it back to Monte and not looking away.  He heard Monte click open the briefcase.

"It's just a magazine, 'Fyre."

Adam relaxed a fraction, sparing a glance at the _Vogue_ in Monte's hand.

"Hey isn't that your boy?"

Adam nodded. 

"Also looking for a Tommy Ratliff," the courier said, looking down at his PADD.

"Monte, go get Tommy.  Tell him he's got a delivery," Adam instructed.

Tommy bounced out, skidding to a stop just shy of the line of fire, looking from Adam to the couriers, "You called?"

"You need to sign for the package," Adam instructed him.

Tommy pressed his thumb into the PADD and took the briefcase from the courier.  With that, they just turned on their heel and left, security in tow.  Adam waited until they'd turned the corner before he relaxed the rest of the way, finally letting his connectors retract.  Rolling his shoulders, he breathed out.

Tommy was looking at him, holding the briefcase to his ear, "So what is it?"

"Guess you'll have to open it and find out," Adam smirked, "But eh, do it somewhere private, okay?  It's pretty racy stuff.  But don't take too long, yeah?"

Tommy nodded, looking at the briefcase.  Adam smiled and made his way into the studio.  Monte was flicking through _Vogue_ until Adam picked it out of his hands, closing it and dropping it onto a desk.  Lisa pouted from behind Monte's shoulder.

“Spoilsport.  I was really getting into that particular article.”

Before he could say anything, the door slammed open.  A woman stood there, a crowd of people behind her.  She wore jeans, fashionably torn and a t-shirt hanging off her shoulder.  Oversized mirror shades hid her eyes.  Looking Adam up and down, she raised a hand to pull off the glasses, bracelets tinkling. 

"So, you're who I'm working with?" she asked, "I'm Maria.  I've heard you've got a decent voice, a decent song and a decent work ethic.  Let's make magic." She stepped in, looking over the soundboards, "What _jackass_ was working these boards?  No wonder they had to call me in.  Someone get me a coffee, black with two sugars and the rest of you start running through sound checks.  We've got six hours people and I want a single at the end of it."

She looked over at Adam, "If you've got calls to make, make them now.  Once we start, I'm not letting you do anything but break to sip water until we get the track down."

Adam flicked an eye over Kris' name again and tried to call, but this time the number came back as out of service.  Adam frowned and tried Glitch.  His number didn’t work either.  He ran through his options, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.  A message flashed up on his inner eye display.  It was from the Helpers.

_PRIMARY USERS PHONE HAS BEEN DISCONNECTED ELECTRONICALLY DUE TO SECURITY BREACH.  CURRENTLY UNCONTACTABLE.  WILL UPDATE._

Adam's eyebrow rose as he read the text.

_DEFINE SECURITY BREACH._

The text reply was almost instantaneous, _CONTACT DETAILS HAVE BEEN LEAKED VIA INTERNET FORUM.  TARGET TRACKED AND BEING NEUTRALISED.  2.834 MINUTES TO MISSION COMPLETION._

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose.  He didn't know what they meant by neutralized but he hoped that it was painful.  His eyes flew over the heads up keys, _RELAY MESSAGE TO PRIMARY USER: CALL ME WHEN YOU CAN.  UNEXPECTED NEWS.  URGENT._

Maria's eyes were on him when he looked back, "Into the sound booth, rock star.  We got a track to lay down."

Adam stepped into the booth and put the headphones on.  He gave her a thumbs up and tried to calm himself down.  The music kicked in and Adam waited for his cue.  He closed his eyes and thought of Kris.  He saw the video that Lillian had shown him, Kris and Glitch dancing close, rocking into each other like they were in the middle of the dance floor, right in the heart of _Idolize:NYC_ on a Saturday night.  He ached to be the one behind Kris, holding him close, his fingers on Kris' hips.  He thought about the cover shot of Kris, the look in his eyes and that was all he needed.

Adam tapped his fingers against his leg as the beat kicked in.  There was nothing there but him and the music.  He hummed the intro, giving it that breathy moan that Kris loved so much and from there, it just opened up, flowing easily in a way that Silicon Heart never had.

They worked hard, Maria listening back to the takes and nodding along.  Her corrections were small and precise, a bridge here, a trill there.  She listened to the playback on headphones, her eyes closed and scrunched up as she manipulated the boards, listening and then shaking her head at every bum note.  She was good, Adam had to admit, but she was relentless.  Four hours and no break before she finally demanded a comfort break and a double espresso.  She had just left the room when Adam's phone rang, Kris' name flashing on the display.  Adam grabbed a bottle of water and uncapped it, sipping it as he answered the phone. 

"Hey, just got your messages," Kris' voice was sleep rough.

"Hey babe," Adam smiled, sitting down on the couch.  He waved at Tommy as he left to grab coffees from the cafeteria. "I got the message about the security breach. You okay?"

"Yeah, my own fault. I might not have been in the mood to wake up," Kris laughed a little.

"Oh? What's up?" Adam sat forward on the couch, a frown on his face.

Kris sounded a little sheepish, "I might have thrown the phone across the room after the fifth call."

"You okay?" Adam asked again, checking his bio-monitor, flicking to Kris' readings.  Everything was green across the display, although one or two of the levels were edging towards amber, "Your bio-monitor is alright, although you could use some food."

"Yeah, I picked up some bagels when I was out," Kris reassured him.

"That's good," he smiled, "There should be some stuff in the fridge that you can have."  He heard Kris shuffling around and the fridge door opening. He waited another minute, before saying, "So I saw _Vogue_."

"Vo-oh, yeah!" Kris said around a mouthful of food.  Adam heard him swallowing.  "That was out today, wasn't it?"

Adam reached out, and grabbed the magazine.  He flicked through it, finding the interview and opening the page. 

Adam laughed, "Yeah. Yeah, it hit the stands this morning. You look good, babe. Really good."

"Thanks," Kris murmured.  Adam could picture the blush on his cheeks and the way that his head ducked down when he was embarrassed.  "Brady's a really awesome photographer."

That was true, but it wasn’t the point. Adam wasn't letting him back out of this one.  Kris never thought of himself as attractive.  Hopefully this would change his opinion, but Adam doubted it. 

"He had a lot to work with. You looked hot!" Adam let his voice drop until it was a low growl rumbling down the phone line.  "Amazing, babe."

"You think I'm hot in sweat-pants," Kris laughed, "Although, seriously, we overdid the props."

That usually meant that Drey had been left in charge of the credit cards.  That was a dangerous move.  He'd have ordered catalogues and then samples and when nothing had fit the aesthetic that he had in his mind...  He'd have resorted to websites.  Adam could picture the back room of Dorsett Gibson, filled to the brim with boxes, and given that the props for this shoot had been sex-toys, that mean floor to ceiling silicone and latex.  He _almost_ felt sorry for Gee. 

"Can't wait to get home tonight," Adam bit his lip, shifting in his seat.

"How late are they keeping you?"

"Late," Adam sighed, brushing a hand through his hair.  "They brought in this new producer from LA and she's determined to get this track down tonight. We're releasing on Friday."

He still couldn't believe it. Friday: only two days away, but they could do it. Adam knew they could. Everyone was playing at the top of their game, rocking out and really working well together. The energy was back, coupled with nerves and more than a little fear, but it was good. Better than ever.

"Pity," Kris sighed over-dramatically, "I just found the party bag again."  Adam could hear the smile on his face, the evil smirk that Adam just wanted to kiss.  "Guess I'll have to entertain myself."

Adam laughed, "Babe, you are evil. The best kind of evil, but you have no idea what you're doing to me here."

"I am absolutely _not_ evil," Kris pouted.  "How many more times are they going to make you record that track?"

Adam had recorded three times this afternoon, everything else had been the band.  That wasn't a lot.  Then it clicked.  Kris was talking about Silicon Heart. 

"Shit, I didn't tell you," Adam breathed. "They've scrapped it. I'm laying down _your_ song."

"My song?" Kris asked.

"Yeah," Adam smiled, "the one you were dancing to during the shoot. Turns out that your little video on the _Vogue_ site got so many people calling in and asking about it that it managed to crash the phone system here."

"Sorry about that but awesome!" Kris sounded genuinely enthusiastic and Adam was glad because he was making sure that there was a dedication on the liner. "Silicon Heart wasn't a Silverfyre song."

"Finally the execs agree." Adam sat back again, his fingers still tracing over Kris' pictures. He looked up, as Monte dropped a coffee beside Adam before wandering in to join LP in the sound booth. Adam sipped it, cursing when the liquid burned him.  "Also, I met the strangest woman today, head of publicity at Gunfire. She'd put some of the fixers in the city to shame."

"Sounds like your type of woman," Kris laughed. "You didn't get kicked, did you?"

"Nope," Adam shook his head, "She did hit on me a little, to see if I'd take the bait."

Adam heard the growl on the other end of the phone, low and dangerous, and he smiled.  So many people underestimated Kris, and Juniper, but there was a core of steel to his boy.  Everyone knew Adam was possessive, but for all his Southern charm, Kris was every bit as territorial.  Adam was just a hell of a lot less subtle than Kris was.

"You don't have anything to worry about, babe," Adam reassured him. "You know I love you."

"I'm not worried. I'm pissed," Kris's voice rose sharply.

Adam shook his head, trying to explain it in a way that didn't get Lillian's Dome privileges revoked or her car impounded, "After your interview, she wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to do something stupid like pick up twinks as soon as your back is turned."

Adam blew on the coffee to try to cool it enough to drink it and then took a sip.

"...so she decided to see if you'd pick up a PR agent instead? She does know you like cock, yeah?"

Adam almost choked on the mouthful of coffee, only barely managing not to spray it out all over the control room.  He coughed, pushing the magazine away.  He wiped at his mouth with his sleeve.

"She may have missed the memo," Adam said after he'd caught his breath.

Kris laughed, "I won't keep you then."  Adam heard a rustling on the other end of the line. "But you should totally hurry home."

"Soon as I can babe," Adam promised.

Maria threw the door open and stepped into the room.  She had her entourage with her but she had her headphones on, head nodding along to whatever track she was listening to.  She pulled out her chair and sat down, throwing her feet up on the desk.  She clicked her fingers and one of her people handed her a noxious orange smoothie.  Adam tucked his copy of _Vogue_ into the inside pocket of his jacket, just in case any of Maria's people had ideas about stealing it.  She pulled the headphones off and swiveled around so that she could look at him.  She tapped her wrist.

"Shit, babe, she's calling me back in." Adam said quietly.  "I'll send a message when I'm on my way, okay?"

"All right. Love you."

Adam smiled, closing his eyes, "Love you too, babe. See you soon."

Adam disconnected the call and smiled.  Maria was still watching him when he looked up.  She smiled at him, and shooed her assistants out of the room. 

"Let's talk music, kid," she started, pulling her legs down from the desk and turning to face him.  "So, I've been listening to your track again, and you know what I think?  We need to beef up the base.  How's your lower register?  Think we can get a little more sex into it?  I mean, you're pushing the envelope with this song.  There's nothing like this, or even close, for almost twenty years.  You've got a unique take on music.  I like that, but we gotta put you on the map.  We gotta make this a song to remember, yeah?"

Adam nodded.  His phone beeped again, a message from Kris.  He pulled it up, nearly swallowing his tongue when he saw the photo of a butt-plug lying on their bed.  There was a single word below it: "Incentive <3".

Kris was an evil tease.  No, Kris would only be a tease if he didn't carry through, and that wasn't likely.  Since Kris had kicked up his aggressive side, Adam had been reaping the benefits.  Well, whenever they were both at home and not inches from sleep.

"Whatever put that look on your face, keep it there," Maria said, "And get back into that studio, rock star.  We got another couple of hours here, but let’s do it on the next take."

Adam stood, smiling, "Alright let's do it.  Next take, you got it."

Adam took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he walked into the sound booth.  Monte hunted everyone out, patting him on the arm.  Adam pulled on the heavy 'phones and listened to the newly recorded intro.  It was deeper, now, heavy with a base beat and Adam let his tone fall, until it was a rumbling in his throat and then let it sweep up again.  It came easy to him as his thoughts turned to Kris and his plans for later tonight.  When the last notes died out, Adam opened his eyes, looking up.  Monte stood behind Maria, giving him a thumbs up.

"That is a hot wrap, boys and girls.  Your work here is done and now I get to earn my paycheck," Maria stood up.  "Get your asses home so I can work.  Master will be ready tomorrow.  We'll meet up then and I'll show you what you guys laid down, see what you think but I gotta say, I think we got Platinum."

Adam smiled.  He pulled up his chronometer and tracked the time.  Forty minutes to get out of the dome, twenty to get home if he pushed it.  Adam just hoped that Kris didn't start the show without him!


	19. Chapter 19

"So I'm never leaving this building again," Glitch announced.  "Also, good morning! Please tell me you have food?"

Kris didn’t even open his eyes but he felt Adam settle closer, pressing him back against the kitchen counter as he glowered at Glitch.  "I need to rekey the locks."

"Morning, man," Kris yawned and curled at little closer to Adam.  "There's ...toast, I think."

"I so did not sign up for this," Glitch complained and Kris laughed at Adam's discontent growl, snuggling a little closer, "or for cavity-inducing cuddling."

"Our kitchen," Adam muttered, kissing Kris' hair and leaning into him.  "Don't like it, you can go starve in your own kitchen."

"You're a dick," Glitch said, filling a bowl with the last of the granola that Adam ate sometimes.  "I'm gonna take my cereal and go home."

" _Your_ cereal?" Adam hollered after him and Kris tugged him down into a kiss that distracted them both from the click of the door closing. 

Kris had been looking forward to today – his first day off since the day after _Vogue_ hit the market and the endless whirlwind of interviews and appearances had started.  Kris honestly hadn’t expected the sheer volume of the response; Dorsett Gibson were being hailed as the ‘new wave of fashion’ and applauded for taking the brave step of using RPMs to sell their high fashion lines.  Gucci and Versace were already hiring RPMs and there was talk of them re-shooting their summer collections.  Drey was on cloud nine and Gee was perpetually on the phone.

The success was great and Kris was genuinely happy for them both.  He just hadn’t been expecting to have to do so much of the heavy lifting on the publicity circuit.  Just as Adam finally started getting some much deserved slack from Gunfire, Kris' 'contractual obligations' had devoured all his time.

Kris had seen less of Adam in the last ten days than he had since they moved to New York and he'd spent days being asked about Adam and their relationship.  The problem was in the deceptive description of 'lead model' which apparently now included handling all public events and being interviewed a lot about Dorsett Gibson’s revolutionary new modeling standards.  Kris was tired and he'd talked about sex and romantic relationships until his throat was raw.  All he wanted from today was to spend as much of the day as possible in bed with Adam.

Just as Adam's hand started to slide under the waistband of Kris' boxers, his phone buzzed on the counter.  Adam broke the kiss and Kris pressed their foreheads together, long enough to groan before reaching out to snatch the phone off the counter before it vibrated off the counter.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

Kris winced and held the phone away from his ear.  Adam whined, nudging Kris' hand further away.  "....good morning to you too?"

"Morning?"  It was Drey's voice, all fast and high-pitched.  Kris closed his eyes and wished a curse on whoever had been feeding him coffee all morning.  "Oh yeah, it's morning!  Morning honeybunches!"

"Morning, Drey.  Why are you calling me at," Kris squinted at the clock in the corner of his vision, "eight twenty am on the first day off you've given me in ten days?"

"Today's your day off? Oh..." Drey trailed off and Kris sighed.  "Ooops.  I thought that was Sunday."

"Drey?" Kris said gently.  "That's today.  Today is Sunday."

"No it's not," Drey snorted.  "Don't be silly.  Today is Friday!"

"Drey?" Kris rubbed at his eyes.  Goddamn whoever had broken the lock on the coffee machine.  Even at his most caffeinated, Drey didn't usually lose so much time.  "Look at the date on the clock."

"Clock... Clock... I have a clock around here somewhere...."  Kris listened to the clattering sound of tech being tossed around and the swish of fabric being chucked around and wondered if Drey would notice Kris hanging up on him.

"On the wall, Drey," Kris prompted, letting his head thump against Adam's chest.  He wasn't sure which was the worse sign; that Drey had somehow managed to misplace a clock the size of a manhole cover or that Kris knew where it should be.

"No... No..." Drey sounded speculative.  "I took it down earlier because it was wrong."

"It's probably not wrong, you know," Kris pointed out.

"It was!" Drey sniffed.  "And then I needed the batteries..."

"Drey!"  Kris interrupted.  He didn't need to know what Drey needed batteries for but in this state, that wouldn't stop Drey telling him all the sordid details.

"But I have the most fabulous designs," Drey enthused.  "Absolutely fabulous!"

"Designs?" Kris shook his head and tried again, as patiently as possible.  "Drey?  What the hell are you talking about?"

"I got the contract!"  There was the clunk of a bottle hitting the table, followed by the splash and gurgle of drink being poured.  "They fed-exed it over this morning.  I'm a designer!  I'm a celebrity designer!"

Kris very nearly hung up on Drey right then but 'contract' sounded vaguely ominous and definitely worth investigating.  Kris thumped his head against Adam's chest for a minute.  Adam's chest was shaking and when Kris glared up at him, Adam was laughing silently.  "Drey, is Gee there?

"Somewhere..." more rustling and Drey sounded thoughtful as he added.  "Maybe under the velvet?"

"Put him on?" Kris asked as politely as possible, covering the mouth of the phone as Adam tried to turn a snort of laughter into a cough.  "I haven't had enough caffeine to deal with this.  There might not be enough coffee in the world to deal with this."

"I have coffee!" Drey chirruped helpfully.  "I have lots of coffee.  Oh...no.  Wait.  I have no coffee.  Someone stole my coffee.  GEE!!"

Kris thumped his forehead against Adam's chest repeatedly.  Adam hugged him closer and Kris heard the soft giggles as Drey's shouting echoed down the phone lines.  There really wasn't enough coffee in the world to deal with this.  If Drey had managed to get them signed up to another shoot or interview, Kris was going to kill him.

"Drey?  What the hell?  Drey?" Gee's voice was barely audible in the background so Kris pressed the phone back to his ear and waited.  "What?"

"If he was calling to tell me I have more interviews, I'mma quit," Kris warned.

"Jay?" Gee sounded puzzled.  "It's your day off."

"Oh, I know," Kris straightened up and let the sarcasm speak for him.  "But apparently there's a contract and Drey rang me to squeal about it.  I don't remember hearing about a new contract."

There was some rustling and Gee muttered to himself for a second before Kris heard the more solid thunk of a PADD hitting the table.  "Oh.  Yeah.  There is a contract.  From Gunfire.  Well, that would explain why I'm looking like a metal piñata."

Kris wasn't going to ask.  He just wasn't going to ask.  Adam started laughing hysterically, hand over his mouth in a vain attempt to muffle himself.  Kris poked him spitefully as he desperately tried not to picture a Gee-piñata.

"...wait, Gunfire?" Kris paused.  "As in Gunfire Records?  That Gunfire?"

"Yeah," Gee tapped at something.  "We're doing the costumes for the music video."

"Gee?"  Kris could feel the headache starting already.  "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh. Yeah."  There was a pause before Gee continued.  "Drey's been off the grid for the last few days.  People started talking to him about collaborations and costumes and shit.  So, we're doing the costumes for your miserable excuse for a merc's video."

"Oh," Kris said.  That actually made a lot of sense; Silverfyre's iconic armor was a Dorsett Gibson original that Drey had created to Adam's requirements.  Asking Drey to do the costumes for the music video would keep Silverfyre's look consistent.  "That's cool."

"Uh-huh," Gee grunted.  "He should be ready for your fittings any time now."

Kris paused.  "Gee?  Why am I getting fitted?"

"Said something about not letting just anyone wear his creations,” Gee tapped a little harder at whatever he was playing with.  "I think that was it.  He was hypersonic.  's a good idea.  Beats the shit outta using 'models'.  Lure people in with the pretty and maybe they won't notice the caterwauling in the background."

Kris clapped a hand over Adam's mouth before the first indignant retort could escape.  He was more interested in "... and we were getting told about this when, exactly?"

"Drey was supposed to tell you yesterday."  Another pause, then Gee sighed heavily.  "He didn't call, did he?"

"I spent yesterday smiling my way through ten different interviews and two photo-shoots," Kris said dryly.  "When exactly was I supposed to be answering the phone?"

"I'll send you the details."  Gee said after another pause.

"Please," Kris said against Adam's chest, forehead resting on Adam's breastbone. "Do."

Adam curled one arm around Kris' waist and started combing his fingers through Kris' hair, humming softly.  Kris breathed in and tried not to feel too bitter about more work during his day off.

"Let me know if there's any problems," Gee ordered.

"I'm going to hang up before I say something about you making me do paperwork on my day off that Firecracker will make me regret later," Kris said tightly.  "Talk to you later."

"'K," Gee grunted as Kris ended the call.

Kris chucked his phone at the counter, a little disappointed that it didn't shatter, and made a serious attempt to give himself a concussion against Adam's chest.  It was just a contract.  Admittedly it was also a contract he hadn't signed, hadn't been warned to expect and hadn't known existed but it was just a contract.  Right?

Adam was peering down at him but Kris ignored him.  Concussion was still the preferred plan.  After a minute, Adam caught Kris' head, holding him steady, and kissed him.  Kris, still irritated and contrary, tried to pull back but Adam followed him, not breaking the kiss until Kris reluctantly relaxed.

"If you knew about this, I'm going to be pissed," he warned Adam before threading his fingers through Adam's hair and kissing him back.

Adam drew back at last, rubbing fingers soothingly over the top of Kris' head.  "Don't give yourself a concussion, babe."

Kris tipped his head up, narrowing his eyes at Adam.  " _Did_ you know about this?"

"Nope," Adam looked him in the eye.  "I knew they were starting to pull together ideas for a video.  Lillian said she was working on things but she didn't tell me the details."

"The same Lillian who put the moves on you?" Kris demanded.

"She wasn't serious," Adam reminded him, stealing a kiss and making Kris smile.  "And even if she hadn't been, she is so not my type."

"You have a type?" Kris widened his eyes in mock surprise.

"Smart," Adam kissed him.  "Fearless," another kiss. "And smoking hot."

"Oh really?" Kris leaned back into the counter, settling his hands on Adam's hips.  "'Cause I heard your type was small, brunet and Southern?"

He deliberately let his accent thicken and watched Adam's eyes darken.  Adam kissed him again, more urgent and demanding. Kris angled his head up...and there was a bing from the home computing system announcing new mail.  Adam's hands caught the counter and he broke the kiss to glare over his shoulder.  Kris sighed and leaned into him, hugging him.

"Well, there's one bright side?" Kris said wearily and Adam looked down at him.  "At least this time we'll be working long hours together?"

"True," Adam grinned sudden and wicked.  "I'm sure we'll be able to sneak away for a couple of long lunches."

"You haven't worked one of Gee's sets," Kris said wryly.  Cheeks was going to laugh and laugh and _laugh_.  He straightened up and kissed Adam lightly.  "I should go read that."

"Yeah, I guess you should," Adam kissed him, leaning back reluctantly.  "I'm gonna grab a shower then."

"Kay,” Kris pushed away from the counter.  "This shouldn't take too long."

He should have known better.  Kris got himself and his deck settled on the sofa in the corner of the main room then watched Adam shed his clothes on his way into the bathroom.  Adam casually naked and wet was almost enough to tempt Kris away from the contract.  Almost, but Kris had plans for dinner and a long night in and if he got distracted now, he'd never look at the damn thing.  So he sighed wistfully after Adam and turned his attention to the contract. 

Gee might have claimed that Drey had been the one to get the contract but the pages of neatly typed text were textbook Gee.  Viking might have been one of the original and greatest mercs but it had clearly come as a great loss to the legal profession.  The first sentence in the contract was five lines long.  Kris sighed and pulled on his goggles to better parse the endless lines of legalese.  He was going to need more coffee for this.  A lot more coffee.

Two hours and four pots of coffee later, Kris finished reading the contract and rubbed at his eyes.  He had a dull ache behind his eyes but Kris was reasonably sure he understood the terms of the contract.  He'd still rather double-check with an expert but his mug was empty.

Adam was on the other side of the sofa, completely absorbed in the latest track listing for his album. Kris kissed the back of his neck in passing and got kissed properly on his way back with coffee in hand. Smiling a little, Kris settled back onto his cushions and reached for his phone again.

"It's your day off," Firecracker was a little breathless and she sounded annoyed.  "Therefore it's my day off.  If you don't want me to tell you what I'm doing right now, you'd better have an absolutely awesome reason for calling me."

"I was calling about the music video contract," he leaned back and let Adam curl a distracted hand around his ankle.  "If I have to work, so do you."

"Music video contract," Firecracker said thoughtfully.  "That was supposed to hit your desk yesterday.  I'll kill that tiny little gnat!"

"I would like to point out that you approved my entire interview schedule and I didn't even know this was being considered," Kris mentioned casually.

"You should have gotten the email yesterday.  You always know when you have email," Firecracker said distractedly.  It was true - the suite updated him within seconds if any email arrived.  Firecracker's voice got a little muffled and Kris heard the rumble of Cale's voice in the background.  "Babe, can you hand me my PADD?"

"....you don't even look at my schedule, do you?" Kris said, drawing circles on Adam's thigh with his big toe.  Adam caught his foot and absently scratched his nails lightly along the sole.  Kris kicked involuntarily and Adam smirked, not looking up.

"What the heck?" Firecracker snapped.  "Sorry, Jay, I didn't catch that."

"Not important," Kris said easily.  "What's wrong?"

"Oh, my PADD's decided to have kittens.  I swear to God I sent the email but it's still sitting in my outbox."

"I'll take a look at it next time I see you," Kris offered.  "But, yes.  Music video.  When exactly did we volunteer for that?"

"It's Drey's big idea," Firecracker said casually.  "The whole shoot's gotten him crazy ambitious.  He wants to land another major design coup.  He thinks that this is it.  The link is already there thanks to the _Vogue_ video and 'Fyre's wardrobe choices so why not use it?"

"Okay," Kris couldn't argue with that but the way Firecracker talked about it, it sounded like Drey had been the one behind it.  "So this is Drey's idea?"

"Yeah, all his as far as I know," Firecracker said.  "Well, his and Gunfire's."

"Huh," Kris poked Adam in the side with his toe and Adam poked his knee.  "He does know that we're photographic models?  The kind that stand still and have their picture taken?"

"The lead publicist may have suggested something, but Drey sounded pretty confident," Firecracker said casually.

"Lead publicist?" Kris tipped his head back against the arm of the sofa.  "I thought this would be a management decision."

"She's taken over the launch along with Case, apparently," Firecracker sounded amused rather than territorial.  "Seems like she knows what she's doing."

"And what's your honest opinion on the video?" Kris asked.  "I liked working with Brady but a corp producer?  That doesn't sound that interesting."

"Brady's doing photography and setting most of the concept.  Drey insisted," Firecracker said immediately.  "Plus ‘Fyre's got creative control and veto, and the company-assigned producer is the same one that produced the track, Maria.  ‘Fyre seems to like working with her?  I was told that she'd seen the _Vogue_ video and wants to play with the dynamics."

"I'm not sure this will work," Kris said honestly.  He wanted Adam's first video to be awesome.  "We had a week to do the shoot.  This is a whole other game."

"I don't think it's going to be a problem, Jay," Firecracker said soothingly.  "’Fyre's going to be right there with you and with Drey, Gee and Brady there too, you'll have a lot of support on set.  Gee's handling security and Haely and Nasri are both signed up to cover make-up.  They're doing up sketches, storyboards, I think they called them, so you should have something to go on even if they don't actually write a script."

"I suppose," Kris said doubtfully.  "I'll talk to Brady, I guess.  See what he's thinking."

"It'll be fine, Jay," Firecracker assured him again.  "You guys were awesome on the shoot.  This is just adding awesome dance moves but really, it's the same type of thing."

"Yeah, but honestly?" Kris felt Adam shifting on the sofa.  "I'm worried about what Gunfire wants from us.  I'm sick of being a corp gimmick, you know?"

"You are not a 'gimmick'," Firecracker sniffed.  "You are a goddamn supermodel, Jay.  Don't worry about Gunfire; from what they said, they want you guys to be hot and sexy.  'Something like the S&M shoot but with movement and dancing' - that's what the original email said."

Kris hummed.  He still hadn't forgiven Gunfire for the mess they'd nearly made of Adam's debut.  It helped to know that Firecracker and Brady were on board but the whole idea of toeing the corp line made him twitchy.  "We have veto rights?"

"Who is the best manager in the whole wide world?" Firecracker parried.

"The one who gets us veto rights and doesn't let us get blindsided by anything like this contract ever again?" Kris teased as Adam shifted some more so his hand was resting on Kris' stomach.

"Damned right, baby," Firecracker declared proudly.  "'Course I got you veto rights."

"And that's why you're the best,” Kris stretched.  "Okay, I'll drop Brady a line later.  What's the deadline for this?"

"ASAP," Firecracker said with a verbal wince.  "Nothing set in stone yet.  I'll find out the timescale as soon as I get up and I'll give you a call later, Jay."

"As long as by 'later', you mean 'tomorrow'," Kris looked up to see Adam leaning over him. "That should be cool."

"Okay, Jay," Firecracker laughed.  "I'll call you tomorrow.  Enjoy the rest of your day off."

"Back at you, hon," Kris smiled, not looking away from Adam.  "Hope I didn't interrupt anything too important."

"Nothing I can't restart," Firecracker promised and Kris heard Cale say something in the background.

"Aaand I'm going to go scrub my brain out," Kris said brightly.  "Talk to you tomorrow."

"Later, babycakes!" Kris ended the call on her triumphant laughter and flopped backwards.  He tossed his phone in the direction of the coffee table and stretched his arms up over his head, arching his back.  Adam nipped at his neck.

"Everything okay?"

Kris relaxed, letting Adam straddle his hips. Adam was watching him and even when Kris shifted, Adam didn't look away from his face. Kris grinned up at him. "Aside from my boyfriend being a cocktease? Everything's fine."

"Good," Adam leaned into kiss him.  "And it's not a tease, baby, as long as I follow through."

Kris smiled into the kiss and he arched into Adam's grip.  Adam nipped his lip and Kris groaned.

"Come on, babe," Adam said.  "Let me scrub your back."

Kris let himself be pulled into the shower, Adam's hand resting possessively on the curve of his ass.

 --

The video shoot was on Tuesday.  Kris had more interviews on Monday and spent every minute in between the interviews on the phone with Brady or Gee or the rest of the models.  Scarlett was sitting in for most of his interviews and she handled the worst of the model-freak outs.  Almost none of the extras from the shoot were being brought back but there were going to be a lot more dancers and Gee was growling about that.  Kris got Glitch to run backgrounds and Adam was sent a list of potentials to audition.  Brady tagged along to the auditions, looking for dancers who fitted his artistic vision and wouldn't have a fit about the bondage gear.

Kris got home at ten and Adam was home by quarter past.  They actually got to eat a very late dinner together and watched one of the trashy action movies that Kris loved and Adam loved to poke holes in.  Kris went to bed with a smile on his face, even if they couldn't do anything more than cuddle for fear of Firecracker's wrath.  Kris was under strict orders that they both had to be able to move and pose and, Firecracker added, that if he showed up with a hickey, Haely would shoot them both in the balls.

Adam gave him a lift in to the warehouse, leaving Glitch and Tommy to split a taxi.  Glitch had been under the same orders and was bitching loudly about it so Kris was grateful to be spared.  Tommy was also complaining but Adam ordered him off with an unrepentant smile.

"Got to look hot, Tommy-Joe," Adam waited outside the apartment building until both Glitch and Tommy were in the cab then grinned over his shoulder at Kris.  "What do you wanna bet that I can beat them there?"

"Hmmm," Kris pretended to consider.  "A blowjob?"

"Incentive!"  Adam kicked the bike into gear and Kris had to grab for his waist to keep himself on the pillion.  Kris clung on tightly, laughing as Adam raced through the streets.  The traffic was heavy but Adam's bike was in perfect condition and Adam must have kicked in his reflex boosters.  He veered through spaces in traffic that shouldn't have fit a postage stamp, much less a motorbike and took corners so fast that Kris could barely breathe through the G-Force.

They pulled in at the warehouse less than half an hour later and Glitch's phone put the cab less than halfway there.  Kris sat forward enough to kiss Adam.

"Looks like you win."

"I always win," Adam twisted to kiss him back.  "And I always collect."

"After the shoot," Kris promised, pulling back and hopping off the bike.  "When Gee isn't trying to kill you with the evil eye."

"Morning Gee," Adam called, smirking.

Gee growled at him and nodded at Kris.  "Morning, Jay."

"Hey, Gee," Kris grinned.  "Where do you want us?"

"Haely's sharpening his pencils,"  Gee almost smiled.  "Start there."

The make-up tent was still in its corner, still lavender in places but mostly multicolored, thanks to the patches that Drey and the rest of the Wardrobe team sewed on.  Kris sensed rather than heard Adam falling into step behind him; old habits reasserting themselves.  Adam looked around the warehouse and Kris watched his gaze linger on the different emergency exits and how Adam assessed the set as a collection of cover and distraction.  Kris elbowed him lightly.

"You're supposed to ooh and aah and say that it's pretty,"  Kris looked the set over.  They'd brought out the fucking throne, putting it center stage, and added to the set until it looked like the throne room of a leather-clad Evil King.  The dancers were all already there, grouped together around Cheeks and Scarlett who were already dressed to kill.  Kris looked at Cheeks' outfit again and sighed.  Literally dressed to kill.  Why had Drey let him wear spikes?

"Ohh!  Ahh!  Looks pretty..."  Adam recited dutifully, eyes dancing.  Kris elbowed him again but the dancers spotted them and came crowding over to say hi.  There were a lot of dancers and they were all tactile, friendly people who wanted hugs and to take photos and get his autograph.  Kris didn’t really have much experience dealing with actual fans and the interview process hadn’t really helped prepare him for people who were genuinely happy to see him and wanted to talk about the shoot like it was an awesome new program.

Adam stayed close, keeping an arm securely tucked around Kris’ waist after the first few photos and kept quiet mostly.  He growled a little at Terry which was weird because Kris had thought Adam would like Terry best of all the dancers based on the background that the suite had turned up.  After ten minutes, Adam made their excuses and tugged Kris over to the make-up tent, keeping himself between Kris and the curious dancers.

Haely was waiting inside the tent, arms tightly folded and eyes narrowed.  He pointed at Kris with a navy-blue eyebrow pencil.  "You.  Butt.  Chair.  NOW."

Kris smirked, dropping into his chair.  "Morning, Haely."

Haely grabbed his shoulder, tugging aside the collar and inspected Kris' neck, rubbing at the skin and poking with a sharp thumbnail.  "Good, no hickies this time."

"You must be Haely then," Adam laughed.  "The genius with makeup?  Jay can't say enough good things about you."

"Hel-lo!" Haely swung around to give Adam an extremely appreciative once over.  "Always a pleasure to meet a man who knows how to apply eyeliner!"

Kris tipped his head back enough to growl at Haely.  "Mine!"

Haely's jaw dropped and he turned to stare incredulously at Adam.  "....seriously?"

"Seriously," Adam deadpanned.

"You’re Jay's ‘Fyre?" Haely stared at Adam, looking him up and down with wide eyes.  Kris sighed.  He'd been expecting this response.  Nobody ever believed he and Adam were together at first.  Kris rubbed at his eyes.  Haely pursed his lips. "...I didn't think you'd be so...." he waved his hands, "...tall?"

"Well, I really am Silverfyre," Adam smiled.  "Good to meet you.  Thanks for coming out to work your magic today.”

"...and you," Haely said automatically, looking Adam up and down again.  "Am I casting my spell on you too or do you want to handle your make-up solo?"

"I've seen your work and it's amazing," Adam smiled easily.  "If you think you can do the same for me...  Then, sir, I'm in your hands."

"Oooh, I like you," Haely purred, sweeping the draped sheet off the chair beside Kris'.  Kris flicked a glance at Haely who held his hand up.  "In the long-distance way!!  Admiration from a distance."

Adam squeezed Kris' shoulder as he took his seat and Kris tipped his head to kiss Adam's knuckles.  Adam crooked a finger under his chin, kissing him properly and Kris nipped his lip - carefully because Haely was watching them both with narrowed eyes.  Adam smiled at him before facing forward and letting Haely inspect him. 

"Right," Haely tapped his lip with the butt of a foundation brush, considering Adam's complexion.  "Let's start with you then."

Haely tipped Adam's head back and forth, considering and nodded once before he started work.  Kris had never really had the opportunity to watch Haely work.  The colors he'd set out for Kris were all bronzes and golds with the dark pink that Drey had insisted on.  For Adam, Haely used black, silver and the deep midnight blue that made the bright blue of his eyes pop.  Haely layered eye-shadow and lip color with a surprisingly light hand and transformed Adam into an exotic alien creature.

"Done!"  Haely stepped back to admire his work.  "And very well done, if I say so myself."

Kris leaned over the arm of his chair to look at Adam.  "Agreed.  Looking hot, 'Fyre."

Adam looked at himself in the mirror and smiled.  "I've never looked better, Haely.  I may just have to steal you away from Dorsett Gibson."

"If you want to try outbidding them, sweetie," Haely smirked.  "You go right ahead."

"Gee will kill you," Kris said mildly.

"Gee already wants to kill me," Adam said reasonably.  "Pretty much all the time."

"True," Kris laughed.  Gee had...well, 'mellowed' wasn't quite the right word but based on what Drey had told him about how Gee and Adam used to get on, they were practically friends these days.  It wouldn't be enough to stop Gee from getting territorial but he probably wouldn’t shoot Adam anywhere too vital.

Haely stepped over to stand behind Kris' chair.  "Your turn!"

"This, I gotta see," Adam spun his chair around and Kris stuck his tongue out at him.  "Make him sexy, more than he already is, if that's even possible."

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Haely rubbed a thumb along Kris' cheekbones.  "I got this."

"Oh, I have absolute faith," Adam smiled.

Haely looked down at Kris.  "Move, and I will stab you in the eye."

Kris held up his hands and obediently closed his eyes to let Haely work.  Adam's hand curled around Kris' and he offered a few cryptic suggestions to Haely about blusher and eye-shadow.  Haely was painting the second layer of eyeliner on with a tiny, ticklish brush when Kris heard a woman's voice from behind him.

"Knock, knock, boys," he didn't recognize her voice but that was a New York accent.  "Everyone decent?"

"Don't move, Jay,"  Haely warned, painting the last of the eyeliner along his left eye.  "Hey there.  You're a new model?"

"Oh lord, no," the woman laughed.  "Lillian, head of publicity for Gunfire Records, for my sins.  You must be Haely.  I've heard great things about you from André.  It's a pleasure to meet you.  ‘Fyre, always a pleasure."

"Hey, Lil," Adam said and Kris growled involuntarily.  Adam's hold on his hand tightened.

"Don't move for a sec, Jay, let it dry."  Haely lifted the brush away.  "André...?  Oh!  You mean Drey?"

"The lead designer with the menacing shadow?  Yes, that's him. And this must be Juniper," Kris heard the click of heels and his nose twitched as the shift in the air brought a wave of expensive perfume.  "A pleasure to meet you, darling.  I've heard such wonderful things about you.  You really are adorable, aren't you?"

Kris waved his free hand in the general direction of the voice, still growling under his breath.  Being back on set was bringing out Kris' more aggressive nature.  He wasn't normally jealous; Adam attracted admirers like dollar-night at _Idolize:NYC_ attracted college students and Kris never would have had time to do anything else.  He trusted Adam but there was the way Adam had described this woman just casually propositioning him with no warning that made Kris' hackles rise.

Haely leaned close enough that Kris could smell his aftershave and said sweetly, "Move and I really will stab you in the eye."

"Yeah, I know," Kris waved a little more obviously.  "Hi."

"I have a copy of the first print of _Vogue_ , practically framed in my office," Lillian gushed.  "Such a fantastic piece of work.  Truly wonderful."

"Oh," Kris forced a smile. "Thank you."

"Okay," Haely's fingertip brushed Kris' eyelid. "That should do it.  You're good."

Kris blinked slowly, just in case and let go of Adam's hand as he turned to look at Lillian.  She was tall, only a few inches shorter than Adam in her five inch heels.  Her make-up was flawless and her eyes were the latest model from Metope, customized color and she was wearing a tailored business suit that was dark and glossy.

"Perfection!" Lillian clapped her hands.  "This is going to be so hot that it's going to melt the vidscreens.  I've got tingles already."

"We aim to please," Kris smiled.

"You look wonderful, babe," Adam agreed.  "We're going to rock this."

"Naturally," Kris pushed himself up, still smiling.  "Just to be sure though, you are the publicity lady that made a move on 'Fyre, yeah?"

"I wouldn't call it a move," Lillian's laugh grated on Kris.  "It was more of a test."

Haely looked at Kris and stepped back with exaggerated care.  Adam reached out but Kris patted his arm and smiled.

"Uh-huh," Kris stood up to his full height and let his voice drop a pitch.  "Do it again and they'll never find your body."  Lillian's eyes widened and Kris gave her a sunny, happy smile.  Then he turned to Adam.  "Ready to get started?"

"Yeah, let's go get dressed," Adam said, slipping an arm around his waist.  "We got some wrangling to do and then... we rock this house."

Lillian was stammering, eyes wide as she pushed her hair back into place.  She was rebuilding her polished veneer as Kris watched.  "Yes, yes, you should... Time's... Time's money and all that."

Kris blew her a kiss and Adam hugged him a little tighter as Drey came bouncing over to drag them both into Wardrobe to get dressed.  The band were already dressed and Kris hid a smile.  Monte and LP looked uncomfortable, trying vainly to rearrange their outfits to cover more skin; well, Kris amended, LP was trying to cover more skin.  Monte was engaged in a battle to the end with his gloves, specifically the fringe along the back of his knuckles.  Lisa was laughing at him, preening in her short ruffled skirt and corset.  Kris couldn't even see what Tommy was wearing; he and Glitch were standing off in a corner, a little too close for deniability, stealing glances at each other and being utterly obvious.

Kris kissed Adam, easy and casual and Scarlet wolf-whistled and Kris flipped her off.  He felt Adam's smile as he pulled back reluctantly and Adam's hand trailed off his shoulder.  Kris saw Adam's expression - a little fond, a little bemused and warmly affectionate - before Adam rolled his shoulders and settled into Silverfyre.

The 'plot' of the video was a straight-forward boy-meets-boy.  Well, okay, more jaded-Dom-meets-exotic-newcomer but the basic idea was the same.  Brady spent twenty minutes trying and failing to explain Kris' character's motivation before Kris held up his hands and said "See hot rockstar, want hot rockstar?"

Brady deflated.  "I...yeah.  Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"I can do that," Kris patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me."

Brady looked at him through his fingers and sighed.  "Not when you're smiling like that.  Just...remember it's all in the body language."

Tommy had been called over with the rest of the band to start sound-check.  Glitch draped himself across Kris' shoulders and smirked.  The chat window popped up.

`Glitch[ROOT]:> Just remember to be Hijack, not Juniper and you'll rock it!`

The turnaround on the video was less than a day, so Kris and Adam got their solo parts filmed at the same time.  The warehouse had been divided by a big black screen so both scenes could be shot without interference.  Everyone was expecting the band to screw up so it was embarrassing that the actual models were the ones that kept losing character.

Mostly, it was Cheeks' fault.  He'd volunteered to play the toy that Kris was going to discard before retreating to his throne.  Kris wasn't even sure what Cheeks had done the first four times but Gee arrived on the sidelines and glared, so the fifth time, they got to the point where Cheeks was on his knees with Kris in front of him, leaning back against the wall.  The fifth time, Cheeks over-balanced and nearly face-planted into Kris' dick.  The sixth time, Cheeks underestimated the necessary distance as he went to kneel and Kris had to dodge sideways to keep Cheeks' leash from snagging his barbells.  The seventh time, Cheeks dragged his fingers down Kris' stomach, nails scratching ticklishly across his abs and it was Kris who cracked up as he slapped Cheeks' hands away.

"Cheeks," Kris warned and Cheeks looked up at him, licking his lips.  Kris curled a hand in his hair and tugged warningly.  "Behave."

Cheeks pouted but Brady was waving his hands in a 'keep going' gesture and Kris pushed Cheeks back and curled his lip.  Cheeks let himself be pushed back and let Kris bend his head back to bare his neck.  Kris held him there for a second, knees barely supporting his weight and his whole body stretched back into a curve, then flicked his wrist, dropping Cheeks to one side and stepping over him.

"Perfect! Cut!"  Brady shouted.  "That! That was _perfect_!"

Kris held out a hand to Cheeks who pulled himself up and immediately started fussing over his hair.  Kris laughed at him and turned to Brady.  Brady was making enthusiastic noises about the next scene but all Kris' attention was on Adam.  Adam was standing just behind the cameraman like a black and silver shadow, watching Kris with hungry eyes.  Kris lifted his chin, challenging, and Adam breathed out.

Kris' lips pulled up at the corners and he held Adam's gaze, savoring the scorching heat of the moment.  Cheeks jostled his shoulder as he moved to take his place by the foot of the throne and Kris tuned back into Brady's excited directions.  He winked at Adam and laughed when Adam growled. 

"Playing with 'Fyre?" Scarlett murmured in his ear and Kris smiled.  "Careful you don't get too badly burnt."

"I wouldn't be here if I played things safe," Kris let Scarlett tow him away to take his mark.  "Besides, we're supposed to be playing up the smolder."

"This isn't smolder," Scarlett corrected.  "This is a five-alarm fire."

"And it's _perfect_ ," Brady clapped his hands.   "All right, so here's what I'm thinking for this shot..."


	20. Chapter 20

Clarize's message came in the middle of his fourth phone interview.  Thankfully it was the last of the interviews that Lillian had arranged for that day.  Honestly, Adam was trying to think up new and interesting ways to ask people to listen to his single.  He must have been saying the right things though, because his song was sitting at the top of the charts everywhere except the conservative mid-states, where it was sitting at a solid number two. 

He looked at the message and barely held back the curse.  Good thing too, given that he was live and streaming to Detroit Hypoplex's largest media syndicate station and one hundred and three local streaming hubs.  Adam didn't want to think about how many people might be listening to him but he knew that if he dropped the f-bomb at nine sixteen in the morning that Lillian would be calling Firecracker at nine seventeen and he'd be wishing for a quick death by nine eighteen.

Thanking the shock-jock host and doing an intro for the single, Adam waited for the host's polite thank you and the dial tone.  Hitting Clarize's number, he dialed.  He didn't get her but rather one of the girls that worked for her.

"Hey, 'Fyre."

"Hey beautiful," Adam smiled, recognizing the voice on the other end of the phone.

It was Sara, Scraps to her friends. Clarize had taken her in after her family had been taken out with a claymore planted as part of a gang territory dispute.  It was either Clarize or the foster care system, and that wasn’t what anyone wanted.  Corporate sponsored education programs that turned helpless kids into the perfect little drones.  Clarize, and hundreds of others like her, ran a network of houses that took in the orphans of the city, offsetting their costs with ventures like Clarize's postbox system.  Sara was almost seventeen and helped Clarize out in the cafe when she could.  Adam had met her a few times, and even snuck her into a couple of concerts in _Idolize:NYC_ \- tagged as a minor despite all her pleas.

"Clarize around?" Adam asked.

"She's dealing with the nut-case in the cafe," Sara answered.

"Do you need me to come down and deal with him?" Adam asked, a little confused at why Clarize had called him.  "It'll be a few minutes, but I can be there."

"Naw, man," Sara said, "Aunty C has a call into the local boys. Gonna be a few minutes, but he's asking for you.  Like, seriously asking for you, almost chanting your name.  It's hella creepy."

Adam barked a laugh, "Okay, you seen him before?"

"Never been in that I can remember, but he's decked out in bad armor covered in corp tags.  He's kinda cute if you get past the creepy wide-eyed staring thing.  Is this a crazy-fan thing?  Is this your first crazy stalker fan?"

Adam hoped that it wasn't, but stranger things had happened.  He'd once walked into a bar only to find three guys dressed like him, one even going so far as to get himself bio-sculpted to look like Adam, or at least as much as a five foot six black guy could.  It was amusing, but... 

"I'll be right over, Sara.  Might be best if you get Clarize to step back.  Does he look like he's on something?" Adam asked, pulling on his armor jacket, his guns already in their holsters.  "Sara, if you think that he's on something tell the neighborhood boys that they might need to D-Tox him."

"Okay, I'll tell her."

Adam hung up the phone and ran for the elevator.  He was on his bike and on his way in minutes, tracing his way through the streets to get to Clarize's cafe.  He pulled into the back alley and skidded to a stop, brakes steaming as he hopped off. The security system locked it down as Adam was pulling his guns.  Two shadows detached from the walls and Adam stepped back into the cover of a dumpster.  He let his connectors click in, targeting scopes coming up to track the two shadows. 

He raised the gun sights to the sky as he recognized Noah and QB.  They looked rough, eyes puffy and red like they'd just gotten off the worst bender of their lives, bloodshot around the artificial lenses.  Adam didn't disconnect, instead scanning the alleyway.

"We were hoping that you'd come," Noah's voice cracked and QB reached out to steady him.

Adam frowned, looking closer at the kid.  Noah was keeping himself tightly controlled, muscles clenched tight, but his fingers were twitching, clenching and unclenching out of his control.  The kid was coming down off some sort of drug, a combat drug most likely, and that was bad news.

"David's inside.  You need to take him somewhere, get him calmed down," Noah's voice cracked and he took a breath before continuing.  "We've got some of the squad out front.  This was the only address I could track down for you.  We didn't know what else to do.  The trainers decided that we needed to start pumping up.  They've been...  I don't even know.  I think it was in the food, man."

"Are you okay?" Adam asked, looking the kid over.

Noah nodded, "I'm on a comedown, but yeah.  I'll be okay.  David watched me through my trip.  I'd have watched him too but..." he shrugged.  "I'm not much use like this, and he won't let anyone else near him."

Adam tapped out a name and an address and sent it to Noah, the Helpers transferring it to the kid. It was the street doc that acted as on-call medic for _Idolize:NYC_.

"He'll see you if you drop in.  Don't worry about the money, he does some charity work so he'll slot you in under that," Adam lied.  Adam would pick up the tab for the doc, but he had a feeling that the kid was the sort to shake his head and turn down brazen handouts.  Either way, the kid needed to get his system cleaned.  Adam had no idea what Mercy had fed them, but if this was the come down, then it was serious stuff and the sooner they got to the doc, the better.  "Get him to give you enough D-Tox patches for your unit and some spares.  Give them to the members of your team and follow the instructions carefully. You understand me?  I'll take care of David."

"David?" Adam called out.  "David, it's okay.  I'm here.  You're going to be okay, but I need you to listen to me, alright?"

"The colors," David cried, "there's too many colors."

Hyper-acute visual input; Adam cursed.  David was definitely on a bad run and whatever they'd given him was tripping all over his neural processor, making it spark to life in ways that it really wasn't supposed to. Adam edged forward slowly, connectors sliding back into his wrists and leaving him free to holster his guns again.  He tapped one of the vigilantes on the back and the guy stepped to the side, letting him through the cordon of muscle. 

"David," Adam spoke softly, "I want you to close your eyes.  Just listen to my voice.  Can you do that?"

David shut his eyes, leaving them scrunched tightly closed, wrinkling the top half of his face with the effort.  Adam stepped closer still, reaching out to his brother and putting a hand on his arm.

"It's okay, David.  It's okay.  I'm going to help you.  Just listen to my voice, okay?"

Adam's eye flicked over the Helpers' icon in the corner of his eye.  A second later, the Helpers had pulled up David's bio-monitor reading.  It was red-lining.  His heart was beating too fast. His temperature was climbing.  He was sweating and shivering.  His processor was struggling with the increased levels of neurological reactions and as Adam flipped between the readings, he cursed again.

_UNKNOWN COMPOUND: COMPONENTS DERIVED FROM ALPHA-METHYLPHENETHYLAMINE, PARAXANTHINE, PENTOXIFYLLINE, EPINEPHRINE AND SACCHARIN._

Stimulants; stimulants and more stimulants, and some that really shouldn't be mixed.  Adam took a deep breath.  He needed to get David calmed down and switched off for a few moments so that he could reboot the kid's system. 

"Clarize," Adam called over his shoulder, "What have you got in your drug kit?"

"Let me show you?" she asked, already running for the counter.

"David," Adam tried to calm his brother down, "I need you to work with me.  Bring up your cyberware controls.  Can you do that?  I need you to look at all of the controls and start at the bottom, okay?  One by one, I need you to turn them off, until you get to your eyes, ears and processor.  Can you do that for me, David?"

David nodded.  Adam monitored thanks to the Helpers, nodding along as he watched the green lights flash to red.  A tap on the shoulder and Adam half turned to take the medkit from Clarize's hands. Adam opened the box and flipped through the patches, looking at each and dismissing them.  All basic stuff; nothing strong enough to help David and Adam tried to think.  He knew that he didn't have what he needed with him, but maybe in his bike.

"My bike, Clarize, I need you to go out.  It'll unlock for you.  In the compartment under the seat, I should have a red box.  Can you grab it for me, please?"

"Sure thing, 'Fyre," she nodded and left, running as fast as she could.

"Okay David," Adam turned his attention back to his brother, "You're doing good.  Dial your eyes and ears back to standard mode.  We don't need anything fancy right now."

David nodded and bit his lip.  Adam saw his hands start to twitch.  Adam caught David’s hand and held it in his, whispering softly to him.

David jerked his hand out of Adam's suddenly, thumping it back into the wall. "It's not working."

Adam could see the agitation start to rise and even as he watched, he could see the swell of David’s hormone levels.  This was bad, really bad, and about to get a whole lot worse. 

"David, listen to me," Adam tried, "That's okay.  I thought that it might happen.  It's not a bad thing.  It's something that happens from time to time.  Don't worry about it.  We'll just do this the other way.  Just stay with me.  I'm going to hold your hand through this, okay?" Adam reached out and took David's hands in his again, holding tightly.  "I want you to turn off your neural processor.  You're going to need to reboot it.  It's over clocking right now, and that's bad for you, but I need you to do exactly what I say, okay?"

David nodded, looking more terrified now than he had been. 

"When you turn it off,” Adam said quietly, "You'll need to count for me.  I need you to count to a hundred, David.  Do you think you can do that?  I know that it's going to feel like you're all alone in the world but I've got you.  I'll squeeze your hands and you just count those squeezes.  When you get to one hundred, I want you to restart your processor."

Turning off the neural processor - main controller to your cyberware - wasn't something to be done lightly.  It was the command center.  Every signal, every bit and byte of information from your ‘ware passed through the processor to be sorted, categorized and sent on.  Without it, everything shut down.  If you didn't have much 'ware, it wasn't too bad, but if you had cyber eyes or ears, you were blind and deaf.  The world just shut off and if you didn't have something to tether you to the world, panic set in.  David was already panicking, but a D-Tox patch would take longer to run if it was fighting against his augmented body's autonomic functions.  Better to turn them off before applying it.

D-Tox patches were the harshest on the system, literally scrubbing the blood until it was clean of every problematic compound in it, everything not made by the body.  David would feel like he'd just been run over by a tank afterwards, but he wouldn't have to go to the ER.

Clarize came running back, Adam’s red kit clutched to her chest.  Adam flicked it open and pulled out the bright red patch.  He pulled it out of the sheath and got it ready. 

"Now, David," Adam said firmly.  "Turn off your processor."

Adam watched the display.  The lights flickered from green to amber to red and David crumpled.  Adam stuck the patch to his neck, right over his jugular and slowly lowered his brother to the floor, holding his hands tightly as he counted out long seconds.

"What in the world happened to the boy?" Clarize asked, kneeling beside him.

"He's caught in a serotonin storm," Adam whispered, "He's training with Mercy and they've started introducing them to combat drugs.  He just..." Adam shook his head.  "Whatever they gave him, his body went nuts.  His team brought him here, Clarize, I'm sorry.  They were hoping to find me."

"That's okay, hon," Clarize patted his shoulder as Adam counted out the last few seconds.

He squeezed hard, letting David know it was time to reboot, but nothing happened.  Adam tagged the Helpers and their icon flashed red for a second before fixing on a steady green.  David took a deep breath and arched off the floor, back bowing as his processor was forcibly rebooted.  Adam held his breath until David was back, blinking his eyes and squinting against the light. Adam gathered him up, holding him close and David held on, fingers gripping tight to Adam's armored jacket. 

Adam pulled up David's bio-monitor readings, watching his heart rate start to drop and even out.  David’s serotonin levels were equalizing.  He'd have problems sleeping the next couple of nights but that was a small price to pay.  David’s core temperature was dropping too, settling at a steady eighty six.  Adam breathed out and watched David's cyberware slowly come online.  It was a little slow but it wasn't the top of the range, and Adam was a cyber-snob.

He held David for a few moments longer, ignoring the group of onlookers crowded around.  Clarize would take care of them once she was sure that the boy would be okay.  Sara brought two bottles of water and waved away Adam's fumbling attempt to pay.  David seemed reluctant to release Adam and Adam didn't hurry him.

It took almost an hour, four bottles of water and two huge club sandwiches before David was willing to talk.  They sat at a table, the neighborhood guys long gone now that the threat was over.  Sara was flirting with David every time she came close to the table, flicking her hair and bending over so that David could see her, well, everything. Tired and worn out thanks to the D-Tox patch.  David could have been sitting in the middle of a strip club right now and it wouldn't have been any different.  He wasn't paying attention to anything around him except Adam.

Mercy had started dosing the team about three days before, but the kids had only put it together the day before when Noah had taken out a gang of street thugs single-handedly, going so far as to bite one of them on the ankle after he'd overcompensated too much. 

"Looked like he was trying to chew his way through the bone," David gave a half-smile, "Scared the hell out of the ganger.  All we could do was watch.  I mean, Noah's not that big so when he went running off, we didn't know what he was doing but he just straight-up jumped the guys.  Literally jumped, launched himself into the air and landed on the first guy's back and then started beating on him.  We were laughing right up until the guy went down and Noah didn't stop.  We got him off, but he went straight for the next target. His eyes," David paused, "His eyes were scary."

Adam nodded, "Yeah.  David, you've got to watch your food over the next couple of days.  I'll give you some more D-Tox patches and Noah is getting some made up at a friend of mine's place, but if they're giving you the drugs in your food, you guys need to stop eating in the compound.  Get something before you head out for the day, stop in a cafe, a street vendor, anywhere but don't eat anything that Mercy gives you.  You especially.  I don't particularly want to lose my brother when you attack some cyber-junkie merc who’s four times your size."

David started to say something, "I'd never..." but stopped, shaking his head.  "I guess that's not quite true."

"No."

An alert flashed up in Adam's vision and he almost dropped his coffee.

_INTRUDER ALERT: APARTMENT. TWO MALES - CLASSIFICATIONS/IDENTIFICATIONS TO FOLLOW._

Adam was on his feet and running towards the back of the store before he even thought of David.  There was just one thought on his mind: Kris. 

_CLASSIFICATIONS: MALE 1: A2 - HANDGUNS AND ELECTRONICS EQ..._

Kris had been in the apartment when he'd left, alone, sleeping with only a few strands of hair poking out from beneath a cocoon of comforter and blankets.

Adam had to make sure that Kris was okay.  Please God, let Kris be okay.

Adam's bike unlocked as soon as he got close, security panels sliding down and clicking into place as Adam swung his leg over and kicked his bike to life.  David slammed through the door a half second later and gave Adam a moment of hesitation.  Adam was a hairsbreadth from just speeding off, but if there was someone in the apartment then an extra gun would be a benefit.  With a jerk of his head, Adam beckoned David to get on and he sped off, faster than he'd usually drive given his passenger's inexperience.  Adam compensated where he could, and threw out his arm to keep David in place where he couldn't. 

It was still a full two minutes before Adam pulled into the underground car park and hopped off, running for the elevator, David hot on his heels behind him.  Pushing the button for their floor, Adam's fear died down, replaced by Silverfyre's cold competency.  Pulling on his combat gloves, he connected with his guns, wires snaking out from his wrists and clicking in to the guns' plugs, the display flashing green as he pulled them from his holsters.  The display for his cyberware flicked from red to amber and finally to green as Adam brought everything online, ready and able to be deployed at a moment's thought.  His gloved fingers closed around his custom _Desert Eagle_ s, flexing gently until they settled into the familiar grip.  He hadn't spoken a word to David, but David had pulled his own gun, cradling the nine millimeter _Colt_ with two hands.

Adam turned to David and took a breath, "I received an alert at Clarize's that there's been an incursion attempt at my apartment."

"Your apartment?" David asked, frowning, "Don't you live...  No, no you don't."

"Two intruders.  One is armed with handguns, don't know the ammo, but assume the worst.  The second is an unknown.  The alert was cut short," Adam shook his head, "Brace for an A1 classification."

David nodded and gripped his gun tighter, raising it until it was pointed at the ceiling.  There was a confusion hiding behind David's eyes that gave Adam a moment's pause.

"You do know what an A1 classification is, don't you?" Adam looked at David, locking eyes with him and watching the million tiny little contractions around his eyes.  "Shit!  Don't those guys at Mercy teach you anything?" Adam sighed.  "It's merc code.  A1 is the highest street classification, automatic weapons, experienced, willing to use them.  Dangerous and trained and ruthless.  If you hear anyone described as an A1 out on the street, get the hell away from them as fast as you can.  They'll take you down, they'll take your team down and you won't get a chance to react."

"Then why are we...?"

Adam cut off the question with a slight raise to his eyebrow, "It's my apartment that they're breaking in to and my boyfriend is in there."

"Oh," David sobered.  "What about the cops?"

Adam's eyes tracked the rising numbers on the display panels.  One floor to go.  Three seconds.  Two.  One.  Adam was out before the doors were finished opened, and at his door a second later.  It was closed but none of the security lights were flashing.  No power to the frame.  There were enough fail safes on the door that anyone not short of DEx shouldn't have been able to break in. Adam's hands tightened on his guns and he gestured to David to stay behind him.

Adam counted down from three and kicked the door.  It banged off the wall and slammed closed again.  Adam dialed up his audio processors, filtering the sounds in the apartment, scanning for any noises but everything was quiet.  Adam slowly pushed the door open, and curled one of his guns around the door.  Through the targeting scopes, he could see into the apartment.  It looked just like he'd left it this morning.

The armored jacket that he'd worn yesterday was still over the back of the couch, but was that the way that he'd folded it? 

His coffee cup was sitting on the breakfast bar.  There was a drop of coffee running down the side, staining the white surface.  Had it been there before?  Was it fresh?

Adam stepped carefully, moving quietly.  Step by step until he could see the rest of the main room and the kitchen beyond.  He looked around.  The apartment felt different, off by a degree and Adam gestured to David to cover him.  The main room and kitchen were clear of targets.

Adam looked around again, examining.  His eyes flicked over the vidscreen.  The LED was off.  It was _never_ off.  Another look around showed that there was nothing electrical on.  Adam's eyes traced over the room and gestured to David to stay in the room while Adam cleared the rest of the apartment. 

Adam sighed in relief but he wasn't finished yet.  He kept up the slow and steady pace, clearing room after room.  Only one room was left, the secure third bedroom, the tech store, Kris' rec room where Adam had a couple of lockers.  He holstered one of his guns, but kept the other ready in his right hand, his stronger hand, and started towards it.  The door was still locked and Adam took a breath as he used his key to open the old fashioned lock.  He heard fans and saw blinking lights across the various panels and displays.  He blew out the breath that he'd been holding.  They'd shielded this room from everything, sparing no expense and thankfully, whatever they'd done to the rest of the apartment hadn't managed to break through that shielding. 

He forced himself to calm down and brought one of the low tech computers to life, bringing up a dialogue box that would hopefully connect to the Helpers.  Adam didn't know if they'd respond or not, but he had to try.  If Kris was anywhere near a network, anywhere near a signal that could be jacked, they'd get the message.  Adam took a deep breath and typed with shaky fingers.  It took him three attempts to get the letters in the correct order but he managed.

_LOCATION-QUERY: JUNIPER_

He pressed send and waited, tapping his fingers against the butt of his gun as he counted off the seconds.  One.  Two.  Why weren't they answering?  It never took this long.  Something was wrong...  Something... Someone must have taken Kris...

_LOC:(JUNIPER) = “DORSETT GIBSON, NYC STORE, PRIMARY OFFICE, SECOND FLOOR)._

Adam pulled up the bio-monitor link again, watching it flicker green even as he watched it, and sat down heavily in Kris' chair as relief filtered through him.  Kris was safe.  He took a breath and relaxed. 

Adam tapped another one of the displays and the apartment’s security control panel blinked to life.  The video monitors were showing static and Adam cursed.  He rewound the display to just before they'd fuzzed out and there... There was something.  Adam tapped the screen, focusing in and in, while the system refined the image. 

There was no direct image of the guy's face but Adam would recognize those guns anywhere. Pearl inlay with a red cross against silver. 

"Shit!"

Adam scrubbed a hand through his hair.  Crusader had been here.  Crusader had been _in_ their apartment. 

When Adam caught that guy, he was going to be so dead that they wouldn't be able to run a DNA trace on him.  The body bank wouldn't be able to recover even a single finger.  Every bone in Crusader's body was going to be pulped and crushed, when he got his hands on the bastard.  No one broke into their apartment and got away with it.

Adam took another moment before he pushed himself to his feet and disconnected from his gun.  He holstered it as he walked out into the main room, closing the door behind him. 

"You okay?" David asked.

Adam nodded, "Yeah.  Did a location check on my boyfriend, he's safe.  He mustn't have been here when they hit."

"Well, that's good," David gave a half smile.  "Doesn't look like they touched anything here, so whatever they were after, they must have found it."

Adam grunted and flicked his optics back to thermographic, scanning the room.  As he’d half-expected, there were lots of footprints, the remnants of warmth on the walls where Crusader had touched.  Adam's mouth tightened as he looked for patterns.  He traced the footprints, walking a careful path as David looked on, eyebrows raised. 

"You have any heat options on your eyes?" Adam asked.

"Sure," David nodded and Adam saw his lens go dark, flickering once before the ghosts of colors crossed the lens, bright against the black of the pupil.

"Dial it up until it's at its most sensitive and look around the room," Adam instructed.

"Whoah!"

"Exactly," Adam breathed out the word.  "He wasn't here looking for something.  At least, nothing that he found."

"Was he looking for a safe?" David asked, looking at the handprints on the wall beside the window.

Adam shook his head, "No.  No, he concentrated here."  Adam pointed to the wall opposite the window and David looked over, nodding.  "Whatever he wanted..."  Adam's voice died as his mind worked through the possibilities.  "No.  No, he couldn't have.  There’s no way.  They stopped making those years ago."

Adam cycled through his options, flicking from one to the next until the green filter settled over his vision.  The room was instantly painted in hues of green, dark, bright and every shade in between.  Adam looked over the wall again, fingers tracing until he fought a small patch, like a slap patch, but tiny.  The edges showed up as just a half-shade darker green and Adam ran his fingers over the patch, peeling it off the wall.  It was sticky on the back and Adam could feel the telltale greasiness of a nanite covering.  He disabled the green filter just in time to see it change from beige to black, the color of Adam's gloves. 

"Where the hell...?" Adam breathed.

"What?" David was peering around him a second later and Adam held up the patch.

"Nanite color changers," Adam sighed.  "Clever.  Almost undetectable unless you know what you're looking for."

"And you did?" David asked.

"Green filters," Adam shrugged, "You can see more shades of green than any other color.  Flicking over to the green spectrum, you can filter out any distractions.  Then by looking over the surface, you can pick up any discrepancies, anything not quite perfect."

"I didn't know that," David whistled.

Adam raised an eyebrow.  He wasn't surprised.  He looked down at the patch in his hand.  Flipping it over, Adam saw the tiny patchwork of wires and circuitry, sitting almost flush.  He scanned it, enhancing the image as he went.  It was familiar, but he couldn't think... 

Suddenly the memory snapped into place.  This was bad.  This was _very_ bad.  This was a sniper targeting system.  The tiny little patch was one of those useful pieces of kit that cost the world but was a hard-core sniper's best friend.  No line of sight, no problem.  The patch scanned the room and sent out a 3D image, updating in real time and tracking changes in positioning, giving elevation and angles so that the sniper could fire and take out their target without ever having a solid visual on them. 

But that didn’t explain the power cut.  Adam switched between the green tinged filter and thermograph and carried on searching.  He moved carefully, eliminating David's tracks as he looked around.  There had to be a reason behind it.  Their equipment came with EMP protection as standard, so there had to be something else to this. 

"Look around, David," Adam looked over at his brother, "Look for anything electronic."  He paused, "Let me narrow that down.  Look for a small device, something that looks out of place.  Under the couch, a cushion, anything that looks... different."

David shrugged and started pulling the cushions off the couch and tossing them behind him, until Adam glared at him. 

"Ew, dude," David held up a pair of boxers, sniffing them experimentally.  "These are rank."

Adam just looked at him, shaking his head, "You chose to sniff them.  They're from a friend who was staying with us.  He used to, eh, well, you know..."

"Um, 'Fyre, is this...?" David's voice hitched.  "Cause I mean, this looks like..."

Adam was by his side in an instant.  He pulled his brother back a step, away from the mass of wires and circuitry that had been hiding under the body of the couch.  David had peeled back the dark lining, pulling it free to show the device.  Adam hunkered down beside the sofa, watching the lights flash, counting down the seconds on an LED display.  Adam breathed out a slow breath.  It wasn't a bomb.  There was no chemical component, nothing volatile, but Adam couldn’t figure out what it was.  Adam traced the wires, drawing a mental schematic in his head.  If Kris was here, this would be dismantled and safed without a single thought, but Adam wasn't that good.  He could disable an alarm system, do some simple rewiring, but Adam wasn't sure that he was up to this. 

Another long breath and Adam reached in. His cyber eyes frized and fizzled, dissolving to static as he reached out to touch the device.  Adam pulled his hand back, a frown on his face.  He reached out again and again his vision dissolved to static.  Adam smirked.

"So that's what you are, you little..."

"What?" asked David.

"It's a smart little thing.  It puts a damper on the electricity, cuts it off," Adam explained, "Which means that it could be used as a trigger.  I'm going to disable it.  Brace yourself."

David nodded as the timer ticked down, finally past the two minute mark.  There was a stripped wire leading in from a lamp.  It was pulling from the mains and Adam pulled a mono-edged knife from his jacket.  One snip, one slice and the power was cut.  The timer froze and then died.  There was a low pitched whine and Adam tracked it.  The patch was active.  The whine grew in intensity and then...  Silence. 

Adam grabbed David's head and pushed him to the floor just as the first bullet impacted the glass.  Adam hunkered behind the couch, David beside him as he used his guns to see what was happening.  He watched the glass vibrate as bullet after bullet struck the window.  Automatic fire, large caliber weapon, Adam knew by the sound, by the impacts against the pane.  He zoomed in, letting the image clarify until he could see the origin.  The muzzle flash was bright against the backdrop, directly opposite their apartment.  It was a sloppy setup.  Adam would have gone a couple of levels up, aimed down to negate against the wind shear.  It was pure luck that the bullets were even hitting the windows.  Adam crushed the patch between his fingers and the bullets stopped, petering out.  Adam counted to ten, then twenty before he finally stood, slowly and carefully, ready to duck back down if he needed to.  The bullet-proof glass had held.

He closed his eyes and just concentrated on his breathing.

"That was _intense_ ," David whooped, jumping to his feet and rushing over to the window, pawing at the impact site.  "Did you know that it was going to do that?"

"I suspected," Adam nodded.

He'd seen one of those patches before, years back when he'd still been a middle-ranked fledgling in the merc game.  Adam'd been working a security detachment to earn enough to pay his rent for the month when they'd pulled one off the wall.  There hadn’t been any nanite color-changers, nothing fancy, but it had worked just fine.  They'd surrounded the mark, covering him from all sides but the sniper had still gotten his shot.  It had been picture perfect, right between the eyes with no warning - precision - and all it took was a little bit of power and a receiver.  It stood to reason that as soon as the power came on, Crusader would take his shot.  He hadn't been expecting the automatic fire though.  Trust Crusader to opt for overkill and still fail miserably.

Adam looked at the window, and thanked every merc instinct that had him go for the inch thick bullet proof glass instead of the half inch that he'd originally planned.  One caliber up, a couple more rounds and there'd be nothing but splinters left.  Armor piercing bullets and still the glass had held. 

Behind them, the vidscreen flicked to life and the coffee machine started to whirr.  Adam jumped at the noise, hand flying to his gun and relaxing only when he'd identified each mechanical sound.  He walked to the fridge and pulled out two beers, handing one over to David.

"So, what now?" David asked, throwing himself down into one of the armchairs. 

Adam took a long pull from the longneck bottle and sighed, "Now...  It's time for payback."

"What are you gonna do?"

The corner of Adam's lip lifted.  He walked into the bedroom and unlocked one of the safe compartments, pulling out a pre-paid cell phone.  He dialed Ringmaster's number from memory and didn't wait for the answer on the other side before speaking.

"Ringmaster, it's Silverfyre.  I got a job for the Ring."


	21. Chapter 21

SYS called at eleven. 

Kris had been up for all of twenty minutes, still working out the last of post-party ache and Glitch was sitting at his kitchen table, laughing and gossiping.  Adam had left at seven and was already in Gunfire, attending yet another meeting.  The news channels were still covering the 'surprise viral hit of the century' and Kris had sent him a text message to congratulate him on hitting double platinum with his debut single. 

The red lights that lit up the entire alarm console froze them both in place and Kris dived for his wrist-comp.  He'd left it off the night before in deference to Adam's giddy happy mood and he hadn't bothered to pick it up.  The log-in prompt kicked him straight to his inbox - the one only Glitch and Val knew - and a message highlighted in red.

"`IMMINENT THREAT TO SILVERFYRE`"

Kris' heart nearly stopped.  His fingers flicked, activating the emergency over-ride and automatically redirecting his bio-monitor feed to a null account and feeding Adam's link with consistently healthy data.  Stress made his heart-rate skip and if Adam saw that, nothing on earth would stop him from getting back here.  Gunfire was in the heart of the Corp Zone.  Adam was safer there than he'd be here.  Kris refused to let Adam risk himself.  Not again.  Adam could shout at Kris all he wanted to afterwards as long as Adam was alive to shout.  That was the priority.

The suite were already filling his status-tracker with information.  Threat level: SEVERE.  Threat origin: Carlos Smith-Haley.  Carlos?  Kris had heard that name before.  The suite helpfully supplied the details.  Carlos had worked in the original _Idolize_ back in San D, he'd had a crush on Adam that Adam had emphatically not returned and Kris had broken his nose the one and only time they'd met in the meatspace.  How could Carlos be a severe threat to Adam?

SYS's email offered a little more detail.  A terse one line warning: "Someone's offering up proof that your boy is the one who took down Trojan."

Kris cursed and snapped his fingers, auto-dialing Val's number.  She answered on the first ring without bothering with the normal courtesies.  "We need to do something now or your boy is fucked."

"How bad?"  Kris asked. 

"It's bad," Val said grimly.  "Your suite lit up about ten minutes ago and I've been digging ever since."

"Tell me," Kris sat at the table, leaning on his elbows.

"According to the communication logs, target's offering information and hard-copy proof that Silverfyre masterminded the Trojan job," Val's voice shifted into the brisk matter-of-fact tone that Kris associated with SYS.  "And that his motivation was personal.  Target doesn't specify but based on what he said, he has evidence that Silverfyre was targeting Dillinger, Nathan and the two companies were just collateral damage.  There are references to 'Fyre's family and the scandal that got them killed.  Target claims the information is from a dead-drop left by Dillinger."

"Is that true?" Kris asked.  He had fucking scrubbed those records.  Adam's past should have been safely buried.  True, he hadn't done that until after Adam recruited him but this shouldn’t still be an issue.  He was going to fucking nuke Adam's records after this.

"I don't know," Val sighed.  "It's not entirely in keeping with Dillinger's profile; he preferred short-term, high yield tactics but he wasn't stupid.  Silverfyre was already a merc megastar before Trojan moved into San D.  Dillinger might have put two and two together."

"That doesn't make sense," Kris argued.  "Dillinger wasn't watching him - he couldn't have been.  He never took any precautions."

"He wasn't expecting us to be a factor?  Or, well, _you_ to be a factor at least," Glitch suggested.  He was leaning against the table, watching Kris.  Kris glanced up.  Glitch was right.  Even Adam hadn't known Kris was anything but a beat-down data runner until the day before the run.  Dillinger might not have had time - or the skills - to protect against Kris.  No one but DEx could have brought down Nebula and DEx hadn't been a serious threat in the years before the job.

"Point," Kris conceded.

"The information looks plausible," Val said carefully. "Enough that it would raise questions. A lot of corps had fingers in the OD-3SSEU5-20 pie. If there's anything that looks substantial enough that 'proves' Silverfyre was responsible, they'll target him. He's vulnerable right now - one hit isn't enough that Gunfire will protect him but it's got his name out there enough that people will know him."

"I know," Kris pressed his face into his hands.

"We can't protect him without making it obvious that that's what we're doing," Glitch started and Kris growled.

"I _know_!"  Kris snarled.  "I also know that as soon as it gets out that DEx are watching his back, every corp on the planet is going to target him."

"You're the brains, H," Val said quietly.  "What do we do?"

Kris chewed his lip.  "Can you get someone to San D who can deal with Carlos?"

"Storm Front's already there," Val sent the GPS data through to the screen and Kris drummed his fingers on the table.  He knew Storm Front by reputation; she'd run with Gee back before he met Drey and she'd been retired and living with Val for three years.  Was that a good thing or a bad one?

"You trust her?"

"With my life," Val said immediately.  "And with yours."

Glitch's eyebrows shot up in tandem with Kris'.  High praise indeed.

"Okay," Kris said eventually.  SYS was solid; no matter how much she loved Storm Front, she wouldn't suggest this if she didn't really believe she could do it.  Kris had to trust that.  "So we can deal with Carlos.  We just need to make sure that no-one connects his untimely death with the information he was threatening to release."

"That's going to take a fairly fucking huge distraction," Glitch pointed out reasonably.  "He's living in the Wards - it's not like the Gauntlet.  If the Wards' body lottery numbers blip, people notice." 

"Something big enough that no-one's going to care..." Kris tapped at the table.  "How discreet is your girl?"

"She's a pro," Val said.  "No-one's going to see her but she can't make him disappear without someone noticing."

"She doesn't need to make him disappear," Kris said slowly, the plan starting to take shape.  "Just make it look like he was collateral."

"Collateral to what?"

"To DEx's next target," Kris clicked his wrist-comp, mind already whirling with ideas and plans.  He remembered this feeling, the bubbling rush of adrenaline and the smile he shared with Glitch was sharp-edged.  "If we hit a big enough corp hard enough, all of San D's going to erupt."

"Making Carlos just another casualty," Glitch finished.  "We need a corp with a lot of unofficials if we're going to hide a hit."

"Fortress," Kris said, the pieces clicking into place in that rare, perfect moment of clarity.  It was the natural target; they'd already hit Fortress once in the last quarter.  Fortress was easily the most hated corp in California for predatory security contracts and for bankrolling some of the worst scum on the streets.  Hell, DEx had an understanding with the Zombies who were as rabidly anti-Fortress as it was possible to get that was based on curbing the worst of the corp's excesses.  Given a chance to lash out at the corp, they wouldn't hesitate and Zombie attacks were noisy, dangerous  and guaranteed to attract attention.  "We're going to hit Fortress."

"That's going to be tricky," Glitch said.

"Not with all three of us," Kris said.  "We haven't run together in years."

"That's not necessarily a good thing," Val pointed out.

"Feeling a little rusty, SYS?"  Glitch was starting to grin. 

"I can out-code you with one hand tied behind my back while running a SternMaytec deck," Val fired back.

"All right," Kris reached for his deck.  "We can't run from here - the apartment's network isn't secure enough.  We'll have to go to _Idolize:NYC_."

"Because that's so much better?"  Glitch complained.  "A public club with a hundred variables and a half-ass network?"

"I spent three weeks wiring the place," Kris grinned.  "There are more redirects in that club's routers than there are in the FBI, NSA and CIA mainframes combined."

"Sweet," Glitch bounced out of the chair.  "What do you need me to do?"

"Find me every safe house and equipment depot that Fortress keeps within a three block radius of the Gauntlet," Kris said after a moment's thought.  "I need to call Kickstand."

Cale was going to kill him. 

By the time Cale arrived, Kris had packed his bag.  The deck he'd used against Nebula's _Vortex_ , every spare slot filled with memory and interface boards:  one of Adam's pillows, stolen from his side of the bed:  the box of program chips that would turn _Idolize:NYC_ 's router into a ghost on the 'Net and lay enough false trails that the Feds would be chasing them 'til Doomsday.  The suite were running at maximum efficiency and the heat his wrist-comp was radiating was just the far side of comfortable.

Kris was wearing gloves to hide the way his right hand twitched.  It was just nerves, Kris was sure, but it was also serving as a reminder of the elephant in the room.  There was a very good reason Kris hadn't tried a full on run against a hostile system since Trojan.  He wasn't technically cleared to be running now and if he had a seizure during the run, it would be a disaster. 

Nakamura had been brutally honest about the risks; the cyberware that offered a thin veneer of protection to a typical data runner might be all that was keeping Kris alive.  The slightest surge could burn out vital circuitry, and surge-inducing code had been a standard part of security programs since 2025.

It didn't matter.  Kris was going to do this.  Kris had to do this.  Hitting a corp as big and paranoid as Fortress was going to take all three of them working together.  But he could be smart about it.

"What's wrong?" was the first thing Cale said, even before he'd closed the door behind him.

Kris waved at Glitch who thankfully took the hint and disappeared back into the room that had been his and still had most of his real running gear hidden under the bed.  Cale looked after him then back at Kris and frowned.  Kris braced himself; Cale wasn't stupid and he wouldn't believe a lie so his best bet here was to just admit it outright.

"We're running.  Against Fortress," Kris swallowed.  "Today."

" _Have you lost your fucking mind?!_ " Cale hissed, catching Kris by his shoulders and shaking him.  "The fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"It's the only thing we can do," Kris didn't shout but it was an effort.  "There's a threat - some guy who used to work at _Idolize_.  He's claiming to have proof that Adam was behind the Trojan job - that he did it to settle a vendetta."

"He did," Cale was still holding him by the shoulders and Kris could feel the clench of his muscles tightening.

"And every corp on the planet will hunt him down for it," Kris snapped back.  "He can't even hide - he's got a #1 single and a music video, and his face is everywhere-"

"There's plastic surgery-" Cale started and Kris broke his hold with an angry jerk of his shoulders.

"He'd never make it that far and you know it," Kris spat.  "He'd be the first solid lead on DEx since Choppah.  You know, better than anyone else what that means!  A price on his head high enough to tempt a goddamn saint and every corp-owned eyeball looking for him!  They'll hunt him down like a rabid dog and if he's really lucky, they'll shoot him first."  There was no point in talking about what would happen to Adam if he wasn't lucky.  Kris would see that enough in his nightmares.  "Even if he could - I'm not letting them.  I'm not letting anyone take this from him.  He's worked and he's sacrificed and he deserves every bit of success and happiness and _I will be damned if I let anyone take it away_."

There was a still moment, filled with Kris' angry breathing and Cale's shadowed eyes before Cale sighed and rubbed his face.

"You're not God.  None of you are."

"No," Kris agreed.  "We're DEx.  We can do this.  We – I’m going to do this!"

Cale didn't look convinced and Kris lifted his chin defiantly.  Cale's shoulders sagged and he sighed again.  Kris didn't look away. "Where are you planning on doing this?"

" _Idolize:NYC_ ," Kris tucked his hands into his armpits.  "There's enough hardware there to be sure that they won't find us."

"Okay," Cale rubbed his face again.  "Just...don't get dead, okay?"

"I'll try," Kris half-smiled.  "But I need-"

"I know," Cale straightened up.  "I'll drop back home on the way and pick up a patch."

"We're going to grab a cab," Kris said.  "I need to make some calls."

It only took one call in the end.  Kris had had the number locked into his wrist-comp for more than six years and he had only used it once before.  Kris plugged his phone into his wrist-comp and booted the ancient text-to-voice program.  He slipped the earbud into place as the call connected.  It was routed through three apparently secured networks and Kris tagged the caller ID as CPU.

"Hello?"  Momma answered on the eighth ring.  She must not have been on the floor - the last time Kris had been in _Revenant's_ _Repose_ , the phone had been in the mostly defunct office.

"Good morning," the artificial voice that the program synthesized wouldn't pass for a real human: especially not with Momma who'd spent her life in the middle of a cyber-augmented warzone but Kris wasn't trying to pass.  "We are calling to tell you that your deliveries have arrived safely and can be collected at the following addresses..."

Kris plugged in the addresses Glitch had collected and heard Momma's breath catch as realization dawned.  He tapped in the additional input, broadcasting the activation codes for the viruses sitting in each facility's security systems.

"Estimated drop off time is 09:23.  Thank you for your attention."

Kris cut the call as the cab pulled into the back of _Idolize:NYC_ and Glitch grabbed their bags.  There was no sign of Kickstand yet.  It only took ten minutes to set up; the office beside Firecracker's had its own secure connection and in-built privacy systems.  Kris had spent weeks setting it up but he'd never thought he was going to seriously use it. 

Glitch was talking plans and lines of attack as he bounced around, running his mouth as he worked through the prep checklists.  Kris nodded along and let him set the table up as he pulled out his phone and tapped out a message to Adam.  They could totally do this and Kris was going to be fine but...just in case. 

' _I love you._ '

Kris shut his phone off and turned his attention to double-checking the set-up.  Glitch went to look for Kickstand as Kris took the router offline to install the redirects that would make traffic look like it was coming from a hundred different servers across the world.  It was routine stuff and Kris could devote half his attention to planning how to run.  The GPS data for Storm Front put her in the apartment building opposite Carlos' so that much didn't need to be worried about.  SYS was already redirecting traffic and rerouting every essential service away from Fortress' hotspots.  She wasn't bothering to cover her tracks but anything directed at civilians wouldn't be noticed until - hopefully - after they were done.  The suite were tracking her progress on the display and it flickered as Kris rerouted the suite through his deck and turned on the privacy screening.  It'd take five minutes to boot completely which should be just enough time to finish.

His deck hummed, the decal detail on the cover glowing as the CPUs picked up speed and Kris settled into the padded chair.  Jacking in wasn't exactly sleep but Kris could at least arrange not to come back to a crick in his back and a sprained neck.  He put his elbows on the pillow and breathed in the mingled scent of Adam and make-up remover.  There was nothing left for him to do now until they jacked in and the real work started and Kris tried to keep his mind from spinning up worst-case scenarios. 

"Ready?" Cale looked grim even as Glitch took the seat opposite, fingers tapping on his deck as he unwound the connection wire.

"As I'll ever be," Kris popped the protective cover off his primary plug and there was a stink of disinfectant as Cale wiped at the scar tissue between the two primary plugs.  Kris barely felt the wipe - there just wasn't enough sensation left - but he felt the press as Cale applied the slap-patch.

"Okay?" Cale's hand stayed on the back of his neck and Kris blinked, scanning the feed from his bio-monitor.

"Everything's green."

"All right," Cale stepped back.  "I'm going to keep an eye on your bio-monitor and you're copying in Nakamura as soon as you jack out.  You abort the second you start have feedback problems and I pull the plug if any of your vitals start to dip.  No arguments."

"Okay," Kris rolled his shoulders.  The patch was mostly lorazepam-based with a bumper dose of enalapril and a minor cocktail of other drugs to keep him from seizing.  Nakamura had written the prescription but only given it to Cale because 'writing a data runner a blank check to keep running and expecting you to show any common sense is an exercise in futility.'

The click of his plugs connecting was lost in the hum of his deck and he looked across the table to where Glitch was waiting, bright-eyed and grinning like he couldn't help himself.  Kris reached out just enough to hook their pinky fingers and the log-in prompt dissolved, dropping him face-first into the 'Net.

The world went black.  Then a multi-colored blur of light came blasting up past him as the 'Net resolved itself around him.  Kris' ikon was mostly grayed out and he could just see Glitch as a shadow in the corner of his eye.  His security suite surrounded him, sleek and gleaming even under the 'hide' command.  Kris didn't wait - a thought sent him flying through the 'Net, zigzagging past the heavy-load data-streams and the fire-fly flickers of other users and programs.

They hit the data-hub for San D and SYS joined them, hands on their ikons' shoulders.  The authentication algorithms activated and light spread down the left arm of Kris' ikon, echoing the tattoo he wore in the meatspace.  Glitch's own authentication pattern flared to life along his right arm and SYS' back lit up with the last part of the algorithm.

"`Plan?`" SYS asked.

"`Full bleed on their data and crash every system we can,`" Kris smiled a little.  "`Standard MO`"

"`How?`" Glitch asked.

"`Leave it to me,`" Kris launched himself toward the massive neon-red data-fortress with Fortress' logo orbiting the public-access point.  He shrugged off the shell as he went, grey-black pixels flaking off to reveal the glossy red-gold glow of his primary ikon.  The suite glowed, solidifying behind him as they came fully online.  Glitch was less than an attosecond behind and SYS was easily keeping pace.

They hadn't hunted in San D's hub for too long - it took nearly a full second before the first buzz of recognition rose and by then, they were there.  The firewall was a solid wall of code, pulsing red-scarlet.

"`Keep them off my back,`" Kris said.  "`I need a couple of seconds.`"

"`You heard the man, Angelus,`" SYS broadcast.  "`Full Defensive, confirmed.`"

"`Go get 'em, Skellington!`"  Root's enthusiastic message filled the shared message buffer and Kris smiled.

Draghos booted with a roar, filling the space around Kris.  The first-response anti-intrusion programs were obliterated before they'd fully parsed that there was a problem.  Virago planted herself with her back against Kris', lighting up with anti-program applets as Chronos started spinning anti-security programs that took up a defensive orbit.  Nox was a flashing blur of light, acting as Draghos' I/O.  The master control program tore through Fortress' defenses, breaking code into rapidly dissolving chunks.

Kris turned his attention to the code floating in his private buffer and started slotting it together.  Six years was an eternity in 'Net time; most people had forgotten that Nebula's greatest achievement - the hyper-reactive Vortex program - wasn't really theirs.  Kris hadn't even mentioned it to Adam.  It hadn't been relevant to the job and the sting of Choppah stealing the test code had been lost under the greater betrayal.

It hadn't mattered, until Kris had thrown himself headlong into the updated version and rewired his brain to do it.  The original Vortex had seemed unbeatable; Kris had learnt better and as he slotted neat silvers of code together, he brought all that knowledge to bear.  The code kernel came together in 0.910253 seconds and Kris snapped his fingers at Chronos.

"`Now!  Tell Draghos to hit it now!`"

The kernel docked easily into the I/O plate covering the chest of Kris' ikon and the command prompt opened as a free-floating dialog box.  The cursor blinked as Draghos spun to hit the firewall with a white-hot burst.  The firewall - the whole massive edifice - flickered.  Just for a nanosecond but Kris was ready for it.

`V<<: ACTIVATE - FULL PURGE`

He slapped his ikon's palms _into_ the flickering code of the firewall and the Vortex executed in a swirl of electricity.

"`SYS!  ROOT!  GET ME A FEED TO DUMP THE DATA!`"

SYS was ready for him, tugging out silver-blue hi-speed connections to the servers that DEx used and anchoring them in the output points of Kris' ikon.  Kris had put the filter in before loading his ikon and the data stream lit up like a fiber-optic cable.  The Vortex was already shredding through Fortress' systems, ripping apart ICE and viral defenses and devouring the data.  It wasn't a true A.I.; Kris had to direct it and keep it from collapsing the system architecture faster than that it could devour the data but the Vortex did in three minutes, fifteen seconds what would have taken DEx nearly an hour to manage on their own.

Kris watched Fortress fall across a full spectrum of awareness.  Across the hundreds of compounds, automated defenses went off-line: AVs found themselves suddenly spinning off-course as the navigation systems collapsed: drones spun into buildings and exploded.  Kris' attention swung back to the 'Net outside Fortress' system as Root deleted a falling block of code before it could hit him.  The code kernel docked to his I/O went inert as Kris started to shut down the Vortex. 

He disengaged with a wrench, leaving one last malicious loop of code.  No harm in reminding everyone who they were.  The rippling three letter pattern that was one of DEx's trademarks started to spread and replicate even as Kris stepped back.  No-one was going to miss this.

Fortress' data-fortress was crumbling, the firewall sputtering like a worn-out fluorescent bulb until it went dark and Kris killed the last of the Vortex' processes as the data-fortress disintegrated.

"`We got the data out,`" Root assured him.  "`Posted to every open server in California and Mexico.`"

"`There's already spiders crawling through the dump,`" SYS confirmed.  "`We won't even have to build an index.`"

"`Apocalyptic,`" Root confirmed.  "`We got everything.  Bank accounts, blackmail data...everything down to the key codes to the CEO's new ride.  If Fortress have a bent nickel to their name by now, I will be bitterly disappointed in the data runners of today.`"

Kris nodded, diving back into the stream that was already running at 120% capacity with data runners scrambling to see Fortress fall.  Draghos swooped down, folding himself around Kris as his scales grayed out.

"`DATA RETRIVAL CONFIRMED AS 98.9796% OF TOTAL DATA STORED.`" Draghos' dialog box popped up.  "`99.9999345% OF RETRIEVED DATA HAS BEEN POSTED ON PUBLIC FORUMS.  ALL FILES RELATING TO SILVERFYRE, KICKSTAND, DREW AND TROJAN HAVE BEEN BACKED UP TO SECURE STORAGE.  FURTHER, DELETION/MODIFICATION OF ALL RECORDS PERTAINING TO SILVERFYRE & LAMBERT, NEIL & LAMBERT, LEILA IN ALL ASSOCIATED SYSTEMS AND NETWORKS HAS BEEN CONFIRMED.`"

"`Good job, thank you,`" Kris breathed out.  His hands were shaking but it wasn't from feedback.  So far, so good but there was still a lot that could have gone wrong.  Draghos came to rest in the secured network of _Idolize:NYC_ and Kris sent him into standby.  Root and SYS joined him a few nanoseconds later.

Root was bouncing, the circuitry pattern of his ikon glowing so brightly that Kris could barely focus on it.  "`FUCK YEAH!  We did it!  We fucking nailed Fortress!! `"

"`Of course we did, `" SYS was smiling a little but she sobered as she turned to Kris.  "`Storm Front confirmed the hit.  She destroyed the hard copies and I stripped the electronic copies to the data fortress.  Whatever Dillinger said about your boy is in our hands now. `"

"`Good, `" Kris relaxed as SYS flashed across a data burst with all the details.  He shook his head and the 'Net pixilated for a second.  Kris squeezed his eyes shut.  That wasn't good.  "`Okay, I think I've pushed my luck enough for today. `"

"`Time to disappear, `" SYS agreed.  "`We can't risk another run for months anyway.  This is the biggest hit we've ever pulled off and every Fed and Corp contractor on the planet is going to be looking for us.  Time for DEx to take a hiatus, I think. `"

"`Yeah, `" Glitch agreed.  "`I had Skellington load the spoof programs in a dozen of those servers.  People'll be spotting us there for hours yet so we have time to set up alibis. `"

"`Good work, guys, `" Kris bumped fists and tapped the log-out key, falling upward into the dark.

He opened his eyes just as Cale hit the EUMI and Kris swore at the surge, hand flying back to yank out the wires connected to his plugs.  Cale caught his hand before he actually could tear the wires out. 

"Easy," Cale drawled and Kris elbowed him.

"You're the jerk who hit the interrupt,"  Kris clicked the connector out and rubbed at the lingering sting in his plug as he straightened up.  "Okay, that's going to be really annoying but I don't think you did permanent damage."

"Darn," Cale poked at the plug and Kris kept still for as long as he could before he shrugged Cale away.

Glitch was hanging off his chair, watching Kris with a disconcerting amount of glee in his wide smile.  "Dude, we rock beyond the reckoning of mortal man!  Two hours lead time, no preliminaries and we fucking nuke **FORTRESS**!?  How _awesome_ is that!!!"

"Frankie," Kris said but he was laughing.  Glitch's enthusiasm was contagious even if the high wasn't hitting Kris anywhere near as hard as it was hitting him. 

"I want all the alcohol in the bar," Glitch declaimed and Kris laughed for real.  "And I want like five pizzas and all the tofurky in the land!"

"How about a coffee and a sandwich?" Kris offered.

"You should get home," Cale said.  "The patch is only good for a couple of hours."

Kris glanced down at his bio-monitor and winced.  "I need to get my vitamin levels up or I'm going to crash."

"All right," Cale stood up.  "I need to call Nakamura anyway."

Glitch disconnected the privacy screening and all but dragged Kris out into the bar.  It was still early enough that there wasn't a crowd.  Kris took a seat by the bar and ordered a fruit blend cocktail.  Glitch's hyperactivity attracted a few fans - and it was never going to stop being weird that they actually had _fans_ \- and Kris smiled and signed a copy of _Vogue_ for a college-kid. 

The news broke about ten minutes after they'd jacked out.  There was something surreal about talking to people about having his picture taken while the news screamed about DEx and Fortress in the background.  It was a little anti-climatic.  Kris and Glitch were the only ones really paying attention to the news; most of _Idolize:NYC_ 's clientele weren't that interested in electronic crime.  There was some talk about Fortress' collapse but most of the crowd were more interested in their drinks than the unfolding drama.  NYC was a corp town and what corps did was no more remarkable than the weather.

The news reports were hysterical; serious-faced anchors demanding that hastily-assembled panels of 'experts' explain what DEx wanted, why this happened and a hundred other questions that no-one had any answer to.  Kris watched out of the corner of his eye as M'Alice cycled through the channels and felt the last of the tension drain away.  There were a hundred conflicting theories on why DEx had hit Fortress and there'd be a million by the time the news corps' researchers finished trawling through the data dump. 

They were going to get away with it.  Kris shared a quiet toast with Glitch and turned to look for Cale as the lunch-time crowd started to fill the bar.  Cale was just pushing away from the table and Kris froze.  Adam was sitting at the booth, his expression mostly blank but his hair was disheveled.  Being Adam, it looked like a bold statement but Kris recognized it as helmet hair that Adam hadn't even tried to tame.  Shit. 

"M'Alice?  Could I get a refill and a Silverfire here?"  Time to face the music.  Kris glanced at his bio-monitor.  His vitamin levels were low but everything else looked good.  No evidence that he and Glitch had been anything other than charming celebrities.  Sneaky little rat of an ex dead and all evidence erased or controlled.  It had been pretty much flawless as these sort of jobs went.

Adam was staring at him so hard that the skin on the back of his neck prickled.  Glitch was chatting to some bubbly girl in a lavender ruffled top but he glanced over as Kris tensed up.  Kris shook his head slightly and Glitch turned back to his conversation.  Kris crossed to the booth, Adam watching every step.

"Hey," Kris held out the Silverfire.  "You look like you need this?"

Adam took the drink, sipping distractedly and giving Kris a more comprehensive once-over, eyes lingering on his plugs.  "Thanks.  You okay?  You're not feeling sick, dizzy, anything?

Kris slid into the booth beside him, fidgeting with his own glass.  "No, a little giddy but that's mostly adrenaline."

"Okay," Adam relaxed a little then slammed his glass down.  Kris jumped.  "Okay, so...you want to tell what the _fuck_ you were thinking?  The hell were you trying to do?!"

"Save your life," Kris said quietly, activating the privacy screen.  An audience was the last thing this conversation needed. "I knew the risks and it worked"

"Just...just tell me why, Jay?  Why did you jack in?  Why Fortress?  What happened?"

"Carlos was offering info from a dropbox that was supposedly left by Nathan Dillinger - proof that you were behind the Trojan job and that you did it to settle a personal vendetta after your brother was executed by _Internexx_ on Dillinger's orders." 

"Carlos?" Adam looked honestly shocked.  "As in Carlos from San D?"

"Formerly employed by _Idolize_ ," Kris nodded.  "Yeah, that was him."

"Shit," Adam shook his head, flicking the whole issue aside to re-focused on Kris.  "Okay, I can see why you did it but damn it, Kris, Nakamura hasn't cleared you to run yet.  He said no heavy duty running for at least another month."

"And wrote a prescription for a anti-seizure slap-patch to let me take a short run if I needed to."  That made Adam's mouth twist down.  Kris looked down at his steady hands.  "We needed something big enough that no-one would look twice when Carlos showed up with a bullet in his brain and no-one would think to look for his 'proof' until it was too late."

"There had to be another way," Adam made it a statement.  "Something that didn't involve you shorting out your brain!  God, Kris, if you'd seized in there - while you were plugged in, they couldn't have saved you.  Your brain would have been toast and I'd have lost you.  I can't do that, babe.  I don't ever want to do that."

Adam's voice was raw and unsteady and he took a long drink.  Kris caught his hand and pressed a kiss against the back of his knuckles.  Adam's hand tightened around his.  "There wasn't another way.  There wasn't any other way to make sure they couldn't find you."

"If you say there was no other way," Adam squeezed his hand again, lips pressed into a thin line.  "Then I'll believe you.  I heard the news and saw your message..." Adam took a breath and swallowed heavily.  "I tried your phone as soon as the news broke and when I couldn’t get through..."

"My phone?" Kris frowned, reaching into his bag.  He didn't remember any calls and one glance at the screen showed why.  "Oh...I shut it off so I could focus."

"Called Glitch," Adam said tonelessly.  "Then I called Kickstand.  He told me you were here and you weren't-"

"I'm fine," Kris' turn to squeeze his hand.  "I'm sorry.  I didn't think.

"You sent me a text that said 'I love you' and tore down a megacorp, and I couldn't reach you," Adam's grip tightened and Kris leaned into him. Put like that, the parallel was painfully obvious. "Lillian cancelled all the meetings when the news broke, and managed to get me a priority pass out of the Dome. Damnit, I didn't know what to think, babe. I was sure that I was going to find you... I don't even want to think about it."

"I'm sorry," Kris said again, kissing Adam's hand.  He breathed a little easier when Adam relaxed just a tiny bit.  "We did it as fast as we could and we were as careful as we could be."

"I know but..." Adam waved their joined hands in frustration, words clearly failing him, and pulled Kris close.  Kris went willingly.  Adam buried his face against Kris' neck and breathed in deeply.

"I can't lose you either," Kris said, voice unsteady.  "And I can't - I _won't_ \- let them take your dream away.  Not when you're finally getting it."

Adam rubbed their cheeks together, brushing a kiss against Kris' mouth.  "As long as you remember that you're more important to me than any dream."

Kris turned his head, catching the second kiss and coaxing Adam closer.  "I promise."

Adam kissed him again, lips warm and drier than Kris was used to.  It was a very deliberate kiss and Adam's hand came up to cup his cheek.  Kris didn't flinch when Adam's thumb drifted down to rest on his pulse, instead he let Adam part his lips and kiss him deeper.  It was a promise and Kris leaned in closer, let Adam hold him tighter until the last of the frightened tension eased out of him. 

"Okay," Adam said, lifting his head but not letting Kris go.  "Let's get you home before you crash, babe."

"All right," Kris tugged free long enough to get to his feet.  "Glitch is probably going to be dancing for another hour at least."

"It's okay,"  Adam assured him, settling a possessive arm around his waist.  "Ted's keeping an eye out for Tommy and if he doesn't show, Ted'll make sure he gets home.  Honestly, it's you I'm more worried about.  Your left hand is still shaking."

"The patch fucks with vitamin/mineral levels but it's nothing serious," Kris flicked a glance down at his wrist and reached out to snag his drink.  The added vitamins meant it tasted like the inside of a lemonade can but it would help.

Adam's gaze shifted; tracking the matching feed on his own display.  "Your levels look fine to me."

Oh.  Right.  The redirect would still be running, Kris remembered belatedly.  He looked at his own readings  and tried to think how to explain without it sounding like he didn't trust Adam.

"Kris..." Adam drew out his name and Kris looked up.  "I'm not getting an accurate feed, am I?"

"...no," Kris admitted. "It was a shock when SYS called so I spoofed the feed so you wouldn't panic when my heart-rate jumped. I forgot to reset it. Sorry."

He was expecting Adam to shout at him but Adam just looked at him for a second and nodded.  "That's okay.  You can fix it when we get back to the apartment?"

"Can do," Kris had to push up on his toes to kiss him and his balance wobbled just a little.  Adam steadied him and Kris said honestly, "I really am sorry that I freaked you out."

"That's okay," Adam repeated, steering him towards the back door and keeping close.  "Just... I understand why you had to take the run but please, don't do it again?" Adam hesitated.  "Unless you have to?  I understand that you might need to do this again if...but, please – don’t-don’t lie to me.  Don’t feed me false data.  You never have to lie to me.  I’ll understand and I’ll watch your back, babe.  Just don’t lie to me."

"I won't," Kris tipped his head up so Adam could look him in the eye.

"Okay then," Adam kissed him lightly.  "Let's get you home and tucked in before you crash, babe."

Adam's bike was tucked into the space near the door and the smooth click of the safety system disengaging was barely audible over the clamor of the streets starting to come to life.  NYC was starting to count down to Saturday night and the roads were filling with flashy cars and bikes.  Overhead, the waves of drones blocked out the stars.  In the distance, there were fires and explosions but they were background noise; even the wail of sirens were almost lost in the sound of NYC's people getting ready to let their hair down.


	22. Chapter 22

"If you try that again, then where I put my feet will be an even greater concern to you," Adam growled out, looking down on Zeta, the rat-like choreographer that someone, Adam didn't know who yet, had hired.  "You pull that shit with me again and I will take that stick and shove it so far up your..."

"'Fyre," Tommy's hand on his arm was the only thing keeping him from laying the guy out.

When Adam found out who exactly had spawned this spectacle, he was having serious words with them, possibly punctuated with .50 cal bullets. 

"From the top," Zeta called out, stepping away from Adam and carefully putting himself out of Adam's reach.  "The Dorsett Gibson LA Fashion Week Spectacular opens in six hours, people, and we've got a lot of work to do.  It's sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.  We want it to be precision, don't we?"

Adam grunted in reply, not trusting himself to speak.  He was on edge already, waiting for a phone call from a friend of his back in New York.  His eyes kept flicking over his phone icon, constantly checking his signal.  David had disappeared off the grid two weeks ago just after Fortress fell and Adam hadn’t been able to get in touch with him since.  He’d tapped all his resources and contacts in the city but so far all they could tell him was that David was missing.  The corp world was in chaos.  Noah and QB were missing too, but Adam had known that before he’d put the contracts out.  All three had vanished off the grid with no sign or warning. 

Adam was tempted to hold out on paying the contract, but the mercs had put in the time and effort to look around and Adam wasn’t some corporate bastard who dangled a credchip in front of them and then snatched it away at the last minute.  The Helpers had looked around as well, but whatever Mercy had done, they’d done it on the quiet.  No records.  No e-paper trails.  Just silence against a backdrop of chatter.  And while Adam fretted, and waited for calls to come in, he had to put up with an overly-camp dancer on a power trip and… this!

 _This_ was the mutated stepchild of an idea that started with Drey, got turned around by Gee, before being given a polish by Allison and then finalized by Lillian.  Somehow, somewhere, Lillian and Drey had become fast friends, much to Adam's horror and bounced ideas off each other faster than anyone, even Gee, could track.  What had started as a simple idea - providing a musical backdrop to the Dorsett Gibson spectacular at LA Fashion Week had turned into a full on show.  Lillian loved the idea, but that wasn't surprising really, given that the show would be live-streamed to a couple of million vidscreens worldwide.  If he managed to pull this off, then his career would rocket straight through the stratosphere - Lillian's words, not his - but if he fucked this up, then he was going to tank his career before it had really started.  He didn't need Zeta focusing on the precision of his steps on the custom designed stage.

He was supposed to interact with Kris during the five song set, building sexual energy with him and heat until they finally came together at the end of the show, but so far, he'd been alone on the stage, told to imagine that Kris was there.

"Models," Zeta had told them earlier, "are so much easier to work with. _They_ already know what they're doing."

Adam hated to contradict him - actually, he didn't - but Kris was just as nervous as Adam was, maybe more, and the other models were no better.  It was Drey, though, who was freaking out.  Adam had seen Drey buzzed on caffeine before but today, he was past buzzing and into supersonic.  If Adam was nervous, Drey was a neurotic wreck.  Not even Gee was able to calm him down and slapping him with a caffeine detox patch just wasn't a possibility, at least not until after the show.

"Finally," Zeta clapped his hands together as Kris and the others stepped out onto the stage.

Adam smiled at Kris. 

Zeta huffed and put his hands on his hips, cane tucked under his arm, "Now, the plan is..."

The odd three-catwalked runway was triangular with small platforms at irregular intervals and connected to two full stages, one for the band backed with massive vidscreens and one for the models, black with the Dorsett Gibson logo spray painted on in full-on urban graffiti style.  The colours ranged from silver to gold to deep fiery crimsons.

"Show me how you're going to walk," Zeta called out and after a quick game of input, output, flat line, Cheeks stepped up onto the platform and strutted his stuff to the end of the first catwalk.

"What was that?" Zeta screamed, "That was terrible.  Have you never worked a runway before?  Oh my Gucci, what have they given me to work with?"

Cheeks' eyes narrowed and Adam saw his hand twitch for his guns, the guns Gee hadn't let him carry.  Adam would lend him his, happily, but they wouldn't work for Cheeks. 

Kris stepped up before Zeta could continue his tirade and put a hand on Cheeks’ arm, calming the merc down as he told Zeta where he could stow his attitude.  Zeta opened his mouth to say something but Kris was in his face speaking quietly and Zeta paled.  Adam smiled and cocked a hip to watch Kris at work.  With Drey freaking out backstage and Gee trying to get everything ready.  Kris was wrangling the models, and he wasn’t letting Zeta say a single word to his people. 

Zeta turned his back on the band, focusing all his attentions on the models and teaching them how to walk – starting with Kris this time - and Adam pulled his guys back to run through the set once more.  It wasn't a pure five song set, but rather a seamless medley of five songs, with _Come (With Me)_ featuring as the start and end riffs.  He'd worked with Monte to get it ready, tweaking it with Kris until it was perfect.  It needed to be epic, and Adam promised himself that it would be.

A clap from the audience pit surprised Adam as Monte and Tommy twanged out their final notes and Adam looked over to see David standing there, Noah and QB behind him, all smiling.  Adam was down off the stage even before the last notes died.

"Where the hell have you been?" Adam demanded, reaching out to grab David's shoulders tightly, squeezing hard.  "I tried calling you but your phone has been disconnected for the past two weeks. What the hell, man?"

David looked down, blushing a little, "We got called up to an active team, sorry.  We got the green light and they stationed us here in LA.  Mercy is stepping into Fortress’ place before anyone else has a chance to try. There wasn't any time to call.  They took our phones off us and bundled us into an aerial transport in the middle of the night.  We were in surgery for the next couple of days and then we got our assignments.  It's been a bit manic and..." his voice dropped to a whisper, "...I couldn't remember your number."

Adam looked David over, worried about what he had heard, "They took you into surgery?"

"Yeah, man," QB pulled up his sleeve to show a cyber panel embedded into his forearm, "We're in the big leagues now.  Can't go out onto the street without 'ware, dude.  Everyone knows that."

Adam nodded, "Can I see?"

"Sure," QB held out his arm and Adam tapped on the panel, bringing up the list of cyberware that the kid had. 

For the most part it was fairly standard: speed ware, neural processor, implants and augments.  There was one item on the list that didn't give a coherent classification.  Adam pulled up David's sleeve and looked at his list.  The same item appeared there.  Noah had it too.  Adam pulled up the placement map, tapping the item and watching the image flash and glow.

Adam rubbed a hand over his face as he struggled to take a breath.  He flicked at glance at the Helpers' icon at the corner of his vision and sent off the query, praying with every fiber of his being that he was wrong.

_ITEM IDENTIFIED AS STANDARD ISSUE MERCY CORPORATION NEURAL CORTEX SHAPED EXPLOSIVE CHARGE: MODEL NUMBER 17E-94X.  REMOTE MONITORING CONFIRMED AND ACTIVE.  ACTIVATION FREQUENCE: 109.347KHZ._

Adam bit his tongue to keep the curse inside.  The street called it a Cortex Bomb.  It was a small explosive charge in a metal casing installed into the base of the skull and perfectly placed to blow a golf-ball sized hole straight through your neural cortex.  The metal casing turned it from lethal into horrific, shattering during the blast and shredding the brain tissue, making any information recovery impossible. 

Adam asked the Helpers if they could block the signal.  A green light confirmed that they could and Adam sighed in relief.  That had bought them some time, but they'd need to work out a more permanent solution soon.  There were rumors that Mercy favored them, but nothing solid.  Adam had hoped to intervene before David had signed his final agreement, but it looked like he’d missed his chance.  He needed to talk to Kris about this but at least with the Helper’s monitoring, David wasn’t going to drop off the grid again.

"So," Adam said, trying to keep his voice even, "what are you doing here?"

"Mercy are doing security for Fashion Week.  All the show venues are guarded by Mercy teams.  We got stationed to this venue, and when we checked the listings and saw that Dorsett Gibson were going to be here, we had to come over and see.  I mean, Dorsett Gibson, man.  They're like major," David's words ran together as he looked over Adam's shoulders to the models and the vidscreens.  "What are you doing here?"

"Part of the show," Adam's lip quirked up.

"No way, man," David shook his head, the smile threatening to split his face.  "That is awesome.  We got assigned over here, so we'll be able to see the entire show.  You think we could meet them?  You know, the designers?  That would be so cool."

Adam scruffed his brother's hair, earning him a yelp and a slap at his hands, "You do a good job and I'll see what I can do."

"Sure.  We can do that," David nodded earnestly, and Adam couldn't help but laugh.

"Stay around and you can catch the rehearsals," Adam offered.

Noah shook his head, "We can't.  Sorry.  We've got to walk the perimeter and check in with the other shows, but we'll be back here for the show.  I promise."

David pouted and Adam scruffed his hair again, smiling, "Okay, then.  I'll see you back for the show."

Noah led a whining David away.  QB followed on behind, and Adam caught the hushed words from the kid.

"Dunno what you're so upset about.  It's not like they're LoneStar.  Now that's an armor company."

David turned on him, poking him in the chest, "They're not armor.  Wearing LoneStar, you might as well just hand your gun to the bad guys.  No, man, Dorsett Gibson is where it's at.  I mean, did you see their Spring line?"

Adam laughed as they walked away, arguing over their armor preferences.  He shook his head, smiling, before turning back to the stage and almost stepping on Zeta who was glaring at him.

"Are you done with your little reunion?" Zeta asked him, "Some of us would like to work."

Adam growled, curling his lip up to show his teeth.  Zeta eeped and stumbled backwards.  Adam barely bit back the smile. 

Walking over to the band stage, Adam turned and looked at Kris, "You ready, babe?"

Kris smiled, "More than ready."

Adam winked at him and turned to the band, looking at each of them in turn, "Then, let's do this!"

 --

Adam tried to steal a moment with Kris before the curtain went up, but he was too busy with Drey, trying to calm the designer down before he hyperventilated himself straight into the ER.  Gee was taking the stress hard too, harder maybe than Drey.  He’d devolved into grunts, not managing full words and he was breathing harder than normal.  Adam recognized the signs and put the word out that people were to stay out of Gee’s way until after the show.  There wasn’t time to talk him down before the show.  Kris was handling most of the organization and the crew. 

“Places, everyone,” Drey called out and the runway manager shooed Adam out to take his place on his stage, ready and prepped for the opening. 

Peeking out, Adam saw two hundred people all sitting on black and silver folding seats, with another hundred standing behind them, talking quietly as they waited for the curtain to rise.

Adam felt his nerves settle and he smiled as he looked around at his band, “We’re going out in a second, and we’re going to rock it.  Curtain’s up in a couple of minutes and it’s going to be amazing.”  He looked to Tommy, “Watch the crossover, you know how to do it.  Just like we practiced.”

Tommy nodded and strapped on his base, rubbing the custom finish with the corner of his sleeve as he looked up at Adam, “I got this.  Long as you remember where your feet go, don’t worry about mine.  I’ll be right behind you.  Someone’s gotta make you look like you got some style tonight, and Drey told me that I pulled the short straw.”

Adam gave him a good natured swat and turned to face LP, still smiling, “Hardcore rhythm tonight.  I know that you can do this.  Just gotta believe, man.” 

“I believe.  All the way, ‘Fyre,” LP reached out and bumped knuckles with Adam.  “The world isn’t going to know what hit it.” 

He patted Monte on the shoulder, “Own the bridge tonight, make your guitar wail and so help me your daughters are going to have posters of you on their walls and introduce you as their daddy, the rock _legend!_ ”  Monte’s chest puffed up and he smiled, picking out some notes on his guitar.

Lisa just rolled her eyes when Adam looked at her, “You are the devil with a keyboard.  You know that?”

“Naturally,” Lisa smirked.  “Is this the part where you tell me that I’m awesome?  Cause seriously, you can skip it.  I already know that I am totally awesome.  Can we get started?  You wouldn’t believe the reward that my boys are giving me tonight just as soon as we wrap.  Skip the pep-talk, let’s get our asses into gear and show these fashion bitches how we do things NYC style.”

“Easy for you to say, Lisa,” Adam laughed, “but some of us got talked into doing more than standing behind a keyboard.  Some of us are going to be shaking our asses out on the catwalk.”

“Poor boy,” Lisa smirked, “Want me to kiss it better?  Or would an ass kicking be more appropriate?”

Adam laughed and patted his hair as everyone got into position.  Adam settled his earpiece in his ear and rolled his shoulders, flexing his fingers to loosen them up.  Drey’s voice came over the small comms unit clear, “Good luck everyone.  Drinks are on me tonight.  Well, I say me, really I mean drinks are on Gee tonight but that’s almost the same thing and…  Oh yes, um, get ready.  We’re go in three, two, one and lights, camera, action!”

The announcement came over the PA and Adam closed his eyes, centering himself.

_“Ladies and Gentlemen, LA Fashion Week in association with Condé Nast is proud to welcome a new design house to this year’s show.  Showing their 2037 Winter collection, please welcome to the catwalk, Dorsett Gibson.”_

There was some polite applause before Monte hit his first chord, Tommy immediately backing him up even before the curtains rose to reveal their stage.  Adam looked down as the vidscreens flashed to life, his foot just barely tapping out the manic beat.  Eyes still closed, he let his head rise until he was facing the crowd.  He counted the beat, waiting, waiting until…

“Dark in the night, I hear your heart,” Adam sang, eyes snapping open and challenging the audience with the opening lines of the custom medley, leading with chorus of _Come (With Me)_.  “You beside me, holding me tight.  The breath that you take, the touch of your skin, it sets me alight.”

Kris wasn’t the first model up, that honor fell to Cheeks and Glitch, and the crowed sucked in a fierce breath as they saw the two models step out at the same moment, synchronized perfection with each step.  Drey’s clothes and Haely’s make up made them look feral, dangerous.  Boots with serious heels on their feet, they stepped forward moving as one as lengths of leather stretched out behind them.  At the other end of the leashes came Kris.  His trousers looked painted on, tight leather jeans open down the side and bound together with laces.  A jacket and tastefully ripped t-shirt finished his look and Adam was almost breathless as he watched him move. 

This wasn’t just Kris standing up there.  This was more.  This was something, someone dangerous.  The man who walked along the catwalk was uninhibited, powerful and danger followed on behind him.  _This_ was Hijack, killer of corporations, most feared hacker on the ‘Net.  Standing there on the platform in front of them, a multi-million dollar bounty on his head, and Kris half-smiled at them as he looked over the suited fashionistas, celebrities and corporate execs.

“Touch me, tease me, kiss me, please me,” Adam moved forward, walking down one of the catwalks, carefully staying opposite to Kris as he continued down his own catwalk.

On the vidscreens, flashes of the video showed Kris in amazing detail, twelve feet tall and looking out over the crowed with the dark slitted eyes that made Adam half hard just looking at them.

Kris cracked the leashes, dropping them so that Cheeks and Glitch could run from the stage just as Scarlett and Karly stepped out.  They looked sharp-edged and dangerous as they posed, perfectly fitting in with the vibe that Kris was commanding. They separated, each going up a different catwalk.  Scarlett was the first to reach Kris and she fell to her knees in front of him, reaching up to push his jacket open and show off the t-shirt.  Kris reached down and cupped her face, looking deep into her eyes and for a second he seemed to be considering something.  He cast her back and away from him with a mock shove.  Scarlett rolled to her feet easily, showing off the clean lines of her suit, and continued down the runway. 

“Don’t leave me alone, swear you won’t.  I need you now.  Come with me.”

Kris flashed a look over at the platform where Adam was standing, dark rimmed eyes sparkling, but then Karly stepped in front of him and blocked him from view.  Kris tried to look around her, left then right with perfectly choreographed grace, but Karly blocked him every time.  She backed up against him, half-writhing even as he gripped her arms.  She bent from the waist, skirt riding up enough to show off her boots, and then stood up straight again.  Kris stripped off his jacket in a second and then Karly was gone. 

Model after model tried and failed to capture Kris’ affections, a continuous dance while they walked the catwalk, posing for a half turn as the cameras snapped and Adam slipped from _Come (With Me)_ straight into the chorus of _Adrenaline Heights_ , the beat slowing a fraction as Cheeks stepped out again.  This time he was running, straight down the catwalk and without a second’s hesitation, he threw himself forward into a flip and continued down the catwalk flipping end over end to land in the splits, lips curled just slightly. 

The crowd didn’t dare draw breath as they watched Cheeks test the clothes to their limits and beyond, praying that the seams held and hoping that they wouldn’t.  His eyes on Kris, Cheeks brought his legs together in front of him.  He arched his back, legs straight out in front of him and then turned over without rising and crawled to where Kris stood.  His hands were clawlike as he pulled himself up Kris’ body.  He pulled on the shirt and it came away with barely a rip.  Kris was bare-chested now, the spotlights catching on the barbells in his nipples.

“Ooh, yeah, baby boy.”

Adam didn’t have to work to get the breathless pant that he needed.  Kris pulled on a new shirt and shoved Cheeks away in one easy motion. Adam danced to the next platform, keeping the distance between himself and Kris as he faded into _Rage Support_.  The hard baseline worked to rev up the models, and three stepped out onto stage together, strutting down the runway and pausing at the end for the photographers.  Camera flashes blended with the lights from the stage and Adam closed his eyes. 

Kris was right in front of the crowd, working with the beat as Glitch, Scarlett and Karly surrounded him.  Adam saw a flash of silver in Glitch’s hand as he shimmied down Kris’ legs.  In a move that defied belief, Kris’ pants were stripped away and replaced with another set before the crowd and no one had seen more than a flash of skin.  Scarlett slid a jacket onto his shoulders and with a touch to the sleeves, the in-built decals lit, burning brightly against the dark black of the fabric.  That single image would be front of the fashion section of every website around the world within minutes and Adam couldn’t help the smile.

Glitch and the girls disappeared as three of the extra models came out.  These ones came down the catwalk towards Adam, stalking him with fierce steps, herding him closer to Kris with every stomp of their boots.  Adam played his part to perfection, pushing them back even as he closed the distance to Kris, while on the vid screen behind them, their video counterparts circled each other.  The models passed him, circling Kris before leaving by the other catwalk. Adam turned to face Kris, locking eyes as he stepped with the beat.  Kris moved to the left, Adam moved to the right, as they passed each other, hands just reaching out far enough to brush.  Models stepped out, walking the catwalks ignored by Kris and Adam as they drew closer and closer. 

“You’re mine and I am yours.  I protect you and you protect me. 

Adam reached out to cup Kris’ face and Kris bared his teeth, snapping at his hand as it came close.  Adam stepped closer, hand going to the back of Kris’ neck and holding firm.  Kris stared up at him defiantly, watching every movement with his brown eyes and then turned, slipping out from Adam’s hold and left Adam looking at his back.  Adam reached out again, and Kris dodged left.  Another attempt and Kris ducked right.  He took a step and Adam reached out, grabbing his wrist.  Kris tugged once, twice and ducked his head, standing still.  Adam pulled him back.  Kris quickstepped until his back was flush with Adam’s chest.  Adam could feel his harsh breathing as Kris rested against him and reached out to grip Kris arms, keeping him in place as Monte ripped into the bridge. 

On the vidscreen, Adam was front and center, singing as he looked over the club floor, on stage and watching Kris as he watched Adam.  On the catwalk, Adam spun Kris to face him again as Monte segued into the last refrain of _Come (With Me)_.  Kris swayed to the beat and Adam swayed with him, moving in perfect harmony.

“Touch me, tease me.”

Kris traced a finger down Adam’s chest, flicking over the belt buckle and ghosting down. 

“Kiss me, please me.”

Kris shimmied and Adam hooked a finger under Kris’ chin, tilting his head up.

“Come.  With.  Me.”

Adam dipped down and kissed Kris, flicking his tongue out over Kris’ lips.  Lisa led the melody to its conclusion, the rise, and Adam panted out the last breathy groan and Monte’s guitar died out.

There was a moment of silence, and then uproarious applause.  The models came out in a line, bringing Drey with them.  Adam and Kris stepped apart and clapped along with the rest of the models as Drey stepped between them waving at the crowd and taking a bow.  They all had to bow twice before Kris sent the models back towards their stage with a snap of his fingers.  Adam walked beside Kris, Drey at their heels.

Safely backstage, Adam finally allowed himself to relax and pulled Kris into a hug.  Kris melted against him, smiling and shaking as he hugged Adam tight. 

“We did it,” Kris breathed.  “You were awesome.”

Adam shook his head, “ _You_ were awesome.  I… wow…  That was…  You were so hot up there.  How long before we can cut out of here and,” he leaned down and licked at Kris’ lips, “celebrate?”

“Have to do a couple of interviews and then…” Kris bit Adam’s lip, his hands dipping down to Adam’s ass.

“Jay?” Drey called to him, “Jay?  _Vogue_ are here to do a follow-up, and then we’ve got Style Magazine, the New York Times and a couple of TV spots.  We need to get you changed and touch up your make up and oh my God, where’s Gee?  Has anyone seen Gee?”

“I gotta go,” Kris sighed and Adam reluctantly released him.

“I’ll be waiting,” Adam promised.  “Knock ‘em dead.”

He watched Kris follow Drey further back into the depths of the backstage area.  A flash of blond caught Adam’s attention and he saw Tommy following Glitch into one of the dressing rooms, the door clicking closed behind them.  Adam shook his head, smiling.  He didn’t know why they made such a production of sneaking round; everyone knew what they were doing in there, and he didn’t need to see the Technicolor details.  He’d already seen enough of Glitch to last a lifetime.  More than enough.

A scuffle near the doors caught his attention and Adam headed over as he saw Gee’s blond hair in the middle of it.  Adam could hear the raised voices, Gee’s amongst them.  Adam moved closer, the models parting to let him through. It was a standoff, when he got in.  Cheeks was pinned between two black uniformed corporate cops, a circle of Mercy troops beside them.  Cheeks’ arm was twisted up behind him painfully.  Gee was barely restrained anger, Scarlett and Karly holding him back with hands on his chest.  Scarlett’s eyes met Adam’s and he stepped up.

“Cheeks, Gee, what’s going on?”

“Ask them!” Gee growled back, pushing against Scarlett’s hands.

“Please step aside, Mister Gibson,” one of the corpcops said.

“Make me!”

“Gee,” Adam stepped in front of Gee, meeting his eyes and not backing down even as he saw the slightly manic glint to his eyes.  “Gee, step off.  Let us handle this.”

Gee looked down at him, lip curling up.  The stress of the show had brought Gee dangerously close to an edge that Adam didn’t like.  He was glad that Kris and Drey were safely away from this, and he knew that if Gee didn’t calm down, the next call that the corpcops made would be to Mercy’s cyber support unit, and that would bring all kinds of Hell down on them. 

Gee growled again, but stepped back, throwing his hands up in the air, “You fuck this up and I swear…”

“Gee, relax.  Scarlett, Karly, watch him.  See if you can get him calmed down while I talk to these gentlemen.”

Scarlett clicked her fingers for the show’s medic who came running.  Hopefully, he’d have something in his bag that would calm Gee down.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’d just tell me what’s going on, I’m sure that we can…” Adam tried but was cut off by the man who’d spoken before.

“This doesn’t concern you, sir.  We’ve been ordered to take this person into custody for processing.  You can call the Fujiama Corporation after we’ve gone to discuss appropriate reparations.”

Adam took a breath and pulled up his cyberware menu, eyes hovering over the activate icon.

“I’m sure that we can work this out without having to take him in,” Adam tried, “What are the charges?  You can tell me those, can’t you?”

The corpcop relaxed a little as his eyes flicked back to where Gee had disappeared.  He nodded, “Yeah, I can do that.  Assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder of an executive, unlawful detention of corporate assets, attempted extortion and termination of a corporate asset.”

Adam looked to Cheeks who was defiant, “He deserved it.”

Adam could have happily throttled Cheeks right there and saved the corpcops the trouble.  Adam glared the smaller merc into silence.  Cheeks tried to give a half shrug but winced as the cop holding him tightened his grip.

“Okay, that’s quite a list,” Adam kept a tight grip on his calm, “Do you have details of the incident?”

“Yes,” the corpcop answered.  “According to eye witnesses, the subject was attending a fashion event at the Century City Shopping Center and after a verbal disagreement, the subject escalated and during that escalation, he injured one of the Fujiama Corporation’s junior executives and seriously injured the junior executive’s bodyman.  He, then, held the executive hostage in return for his safe release.  While exiting the store, the subject, also, unlawfully took a pair of expensive boots, but we are not including these in the list of charges as they were not corporate property.”

Adam replayed the list in his mind, frowning as it came up short, “And the termination of a corporate asset?  Everything you’ve said so far has pointed to injuries, not fatalities.”

The corpcop scanned a PADD and then nodded, “Apologies, it was attached as a separate note.  After an assessment in our medical facilities, it was determined that the bodyman’s injures were severe enough to warrant euthanasia.”

“What you mean,” Cheeks growled, “is that I kicked him hard enough that your doctors had a shitfit at the cost of fixing him and killed him instead.  And you say that mercs are scum.”

Adam held up his hands, “Cheeks, knock it off.  Adding resisting to the shopping list is only going to up the fine.”  Adam ran a hand through his hair, and sighed, “Go with them.  Gee has lawyers on speed dial.  He’ll have them there by the time these guys have you back to the offices.  Just… Don’t… Don’t do anything!  This is just corp politics.”

Cheeks glared right back at Adam, but then sagged, “Fine.  But if you don’t come get me, then I will slice your balls off and feed them to you.”

“Yeah, love you too, Cheeks,” Adam shook his head.  “I’ll get you one of those froofy cocktails with the sparkly pink umbrellas later.  I promise.”

“Watch his heels,” the corpcop ordered.

Adam frowned and the corpcop scowled, “His weapon of choice.  Did everything with a pair of Dorsett Gibson steel-toed, mono-edged boots.”

Adam smiled nostalgically and so did Cheeks.  Good to know that some things never changed.  Even visibly unarmed, Cheeks was still dangerous.

“Go, Cheeks,” Adam shook his head, “We’ll get you out.”

Cheeks slipped his guard’s hold with a twitch of his shoulders and shrugged off their attempts to recapture him, “Well, are we going or do I have to deliver myself there?  I have a manicure booked for five and Alonso will spend hours pouting at me if I have to reschedule.”

The corpcop circled his finger in the air and they closed in around Cheeks, leading him out, guns cradled in their arms, ready to be brought to bear at a second’s notice. 

“Scarlett, get Gee out here now!” Adam called.

Gee shuffled out, breathing deeply as he regained his control.

“Gee, get on the phone, get your lawyers,” he instructed, “we’ve got to spring Cheeks from the Fujiama Corporation as soon as they get done processing him.  I’ll get everyone together so we can get packed up.  Drey and Jay are still in front of the cameras so we’ll have to wait to tell them what happened, but we can need to talk to Firecracker to see about burying the story before there’s a chance for it to leak.”

Gee nodded and pulled out his phone, disappearing into the back room again as he made the call.  Adam nodded to Scarlett and she went with him.  The timing of this was terrible and something about it pinged Adam’s paranoia.  It was too perfect; dragging him off just as they finished the fashion show.  Something felt wrong.  With Kris in front of the cameras, Adam needed Glitch to find out what had prompted the bust. 

Adam walked down to the dressing rooms and knocked on the door to the room that Tommy and Glitch had disappeared into.  There was no answer and Adam knocked again.  The door swung open at his touch.  There was no sound from inside and Adam reached for his guns.  He stepped in, looking around the door carefully but the room was empty.  It was a mess, with clothes and makeup scattered over the floor.  Adam saw something dark on the floor and bent to touch it.  It came away red against his fingers and he knew instantly that it was blood.

Adam’s hands went for his guns, connectors clicking in and bringing everything into sharp focus.  He flicked an eye over his cyberware icon and watched as the lights flickered to green as everything powered up, coming online in seconds.  Adam stepped out and almost ran straight into Karly.

“Go to Scarlett,” Adam ordered, “Tell her that Glitch and Tommy are missing and that I’m on it.  Get everything packed, but keep everyone here.  Pull in Mercy and get them to secure this area.  Nothing drastic, but I don’t want anyone left alone.  Get all the techs and stage crew into a room and start working out if there’s anyone else missing.  Flag it with security and send me a message if there is anyone else missing.”

Karly nodded and ran off.  Adam looked over the floor, flipping to thermograph and then back as everything flashed yellow-white, useless in such a crowded area.  He searched for a clue, anything that would let him know which way his friends had disappeared.  A drop of blood, and then another.  A trail that he could follow and one that didn’t ease the cold gnawing at the base of his spine, seeping into his stomach.

Adam grabbed his armor, strapping on his guns as he followed it, staying cautious as he moved, watching everything around him, everyone around him.  The trail was hard to follow, a drop here and then nothing for a few meters, but it led him out into the main concourse and from there back into the staff area.  The trail was more spaced out from there and Adam ducked out into the alleyway behind the venue.  Adam switched to thermograph once he was out of the building, tracking the footsteps with ease.

Not even a half mile from the venue, they were deep in a seedy area of the city.  Warehouses and abandoned shops scheduled for urban renewal or some other bullshit corporate buzzword.  He looked around, spotting the busted up shop with a brand new back door.  Adam stepped forward, working the security system with a delicate touch until the door popped open and the security system blinked off.  Adam stepped in with a careful step.

The door closed heavily behind him and as he looked around, the lights flickered out.  Adam’s optics switched automatically to low light and his vision was filtered through green.  Behind him, he heard the heavy snap of an automatic bolt slotting into place, locking the heavy door firmly.  In front of him, he could hear the scuffing movements of people nervously waiting to spring a trap.  Adam tightened his fingers on his guns, counting to ten in slow measured steps before moving forward.  He flipped to thermograph, blinking as the display flickered between black, greens, yellows and reds.  Adam counted: three, four, five, six, ten, twelve, more.  All huddled against each other until it was impossible to count how many there were.  He was outnumbered and badly, but he’d handled worse odds than this before. 

He watched as the greens and blues brightened, shifting to reds and then yellows.  That was odd. 

Adam barely bit back the curse as he realized what the shifting colors meant.  Whoever they were, they were running too hot and that could only mean one thing.  They were running high on something, combat drugs most likely.  Adam shifted his hold on his guns, settling the warm metal in his hands as he kicked in every bit of speedware that he had.  It like the world slowed around him as his brain started working faster, harder and his cyberware pushed his reflexes into their highest gear.  He’d need the speed if he was to survive and there was no way that he was going down.

Adam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, dropping into the cold familiarity that was Silverfyre. 

“This a private party, or can anyone crash?”

The first guy stepped out just as Adam flicked back to low light to give himself the best chance.  His pupils were so wide that his eyes appeared to glow in the reflection and Adam dropped him with a single shot.  Another stepped out from behind a packing crate and Adam finished him off the same way.  That was the last of the easy shots. The rest of his attackers surged forward before he had a chance to do more than aim.  Adam pulled the triggers before he had a chance to aim, trying to buy himself that one golden second that he needed. 

They dived at him and Adam rolled to the side, flipping back to his feet before he even came to a stop.  He had a half second, a single moment to look around.  In that instant, he recognized the Mercy uniforms.  That was all he saw before a fist connected with his jaw.  Adam stumbled backwards, finding his feet before he could lose his balance.  The face in front of him was familiar. 

David.

His brother.

David lined up another punch and Adam tried to duck but there was no power behind it.  Adam looked up and into the smiling face of his brother.

“Never did say thank you for the detox patches,” David winked and launched himself at the nearest Mercy operative. 

Adam didn’t have time to dwell on it, just turned and came out fighting, his guns barking a swift double bang as he pulled the triggers again and again, connecting where he could. 

With combat drugs, pain wasn’t something that registered and any non-fatal shot was shrugged off.  Even with David and Noah, and QB behind them, Adam wasn’t getting the space that he needed to clear the room.  He ducked, dived, rolled and shot, and still they kept on coming.  The first solid hit that connected was to the back of his head and Adam fell to his knees, his hands going slack and guns falling to dangle uselessly from the wires.  He struggled to rise but a heavy weight barreled into him from behind.

A sharp cry and he saw QB stumble backwards, his hand clamped to his shoulder as blood glistened and then spread out to darken the uniform.  Noah threw himself at the Mercy guy who’d shot his teammate and Adam was treated to a show of just how vicious Noah could be.  He winced as he pushed himself to his feet. 

In front of him was a white patch on the floor.  Adam’s hand closed around it.  An unused combat drug slap patch. 

He hated combat drugs.  He hated mercs that took them.  But here, outnumbered God knew how many to four, it might give him the edge that he needed.  He didn’t even know what this crud was.  He didn’t know what it would do to him. 

Adam shook his head and threw the patch down.  He was going to win this fight and he was going to win it his way.  He pushed himself to his feet and gathered his guns back into his hands.  Head shots, central mass.  Lethal and quick.  Knees, shoulders, anywhere where he could make it count.  He shot until his guns clicked on empty and he slammed home fresh magazines, starting again.

Three down, four, five.  Ten down.  More.  Adam lost count until he stood in the center of the room, breathing hard and watching for even the slightest twitch.  David was at his back, panting hard and Adam was proud.  They’d stood back to back, taking on all comers and they’d won!

Adam straightened and clicked the magazine out of one of his guns, checking to see how many bullets he’d had left. 

The boys fell into line behind Adam as he moved down the corridors, his hearing dialed up and searching for any hint of a sound.

“Why the fuck are you doing this?” Glitch’s voice was hitched, raw but strong and Adam kept walking, focusing on the direction.  “I left you.  Like you gave me any reason to stay.”

“Glitch, I don’t think that you should…” Tommy’s voice was quieter, softer and filled with fear.

“Don’t touch us.  Don’t you dare,” Glitch spat back.

Adam edged the barrel of his guns around the corner, taking in the scene.  The guy in front of Glitch was scratching at a patch on his arm.  He was strung out, shivering at the toll that the drugs were taking on his body.  He was still taller and stronger.

Strung out, dark lank hair and San D tags on his armor; Adam recognized Killjoy’s description.  This had to be Glitch’s ex.  He had Glitch backed against the wall, with his hand at Glitch’s throat.  With a breath, Adam took aim, and with a single pull of the trigger, Killjoy fell.  Tommy rushed to Glitch’s side and held on, holding him close and kissing him desperately, asking him if he was okay.  Glitch’s eyes were fixed on Killjoy’s body though.

Adam stepped out from behind the wall and searched the rest of the room.  Beckoning David forward, Adam directed him to Tommy’s side.  Both Tommy and Glitch were injured, and Adam didn’t want to leave them.

“David, Noah, get them outside,” Adam ordered, “QB too.  Do you know how to use a Med-E-Vac card?" David shook his head and Adam sighed.  "Take this card and crack it as soon as you get outside.  Don’t make any threatening moves when the AVs come.  I want you to stay with them until they get to a hospital and then take up a position outside their rooms.  No one in that isn’t either hospital staff or with Dorsett Gibson.  If you don’t know, don’t let them in.  Check ID’s, you got me?”

“Yes, sir,” Noah snapped back and between them, David and Noah got Tommy and Glitch up and moving, taking Adam’s white Med-E-Vac card with them. 

Adam heard the low keening wail that was starting in Glitch’s throat and bubbling up through him as David half-carried him out.  Adam hoped Kris could get to the hospital quickly.  Adam would follow as soon as he could but he had a loose end to tie up. 

The door clicked closed behind them and Adam thumbed his guns. “You can come out of the shadows now.  It’s just us.”  No reply came to his words and Adam rolled his eyes, “May as well come out.  I can smell your stink from here.”

Footsteps came from the darkest part of the room, slow and steady.  What little light there was glinted off the pearl inlaid handles of the man’s guns, the red cross detail showing up dark green in Adam’s optics. 

“Welcome to my parlor,” Crusader crowed, arms wide open to gesture to the room.

Adam brought his guns up and fired, trigger fingers clenching with practiced ease.  Crusader moved, fast, and Adam’s bullets went wide.  From there, it was a mad scramble, just the two of them in a room with no cover, dodging and weaving.  Adam felt pain rip through his arm as a bullet shredded the muscles of his forearm.  His hand clenched and released, useless as Adam swallowed down a scream.  His next shot hit Crusader in the shoulder, spinning him around and Adam fired again, hoping to score a good hit, but it went wide as his vision swam.

Adam fired again, aiming carefully as he pulled his injured arm up to his stomach, keeping it tucked protectively against him.  Crusader rushed him, and Adam dodged easily, tossing the merc to the ground.  Grappling the merc, Adam slugged him, hard and with the gun still clutched in his good hand.  Crusader bit at him but Adam pulled back and fired.  Crusader threw himself to the side but Adam’s bullets connected, ripping through the merc’s throat.  Crusader’s hands flew up, trying to stop the flow but it was useless.  The air passed through the mangled flesh with a mournful wheeze as Crusader collapsed to his side.  His blood gushed in spurts across the floor and Adam panted.

He hurt.  His arm, his back, his wrist, everything hurt but it was over now.  He’d gotten Crusader.  He’d gotten Killjoy.  Glitch was safe.  Tommy was safe and Kris was back with Drey and Gee.  He slumped down. 

He’d done it. 

Applause echoed from behind him and Adam turned, gun up and ready to shoot, but he could see nothing.  He took a chance and fired at where he thought the sound had come from but his gun clicked on empty.

“A shame really,” the smooth voice echoed, “I’d been enjoying the show, but I hear that you’re always good for an encore.”

A sharp sting had Adam’s hand at his throat.  He felt something and as he recognized the feel of a dart, the darkness started to close in around him.  Light glinted off pearl inlaid handles completed with a red cross, but Adam never got a chance to finish the curse that was on his tongue.


	23. Chapter 23

Kris never even saw the mine. 

He had no idea how Gee saw it but Kris slammed into the door as Gee wrenched the wheel hard to the right.  The explosion sent the jeep rolling across the sidewalk.  There was a cacophony of sound - the screech of metal on asphalt and plascrete, the shrill blare of the jeep's alarm systems and the echoing boom of the explosion itself.  Kris was thrown against the straps of his seat belt hard enough to bruise.  Drey screamed and the jeep crashed into the unyielding wall of a building.

The shock of impact hurled Kris forward and only the straps kept his neck intact.  He grabbed for the seat in front of him.  Kris choked for air.  He could feel the straps digging in along his side as he hung helplessly.  The jeep was on its side.  Drey wasn't screaming any more.  Kris couldn't be sure he was even breathing.  His ears were ringing and his heart-rate was pushing the redline; warnings flashed across his inner eye display in a bewildering assault of light and color that made Kris gag.

Underneath the shock, the analytical part of Kris' brain that had kept him alive for five years in the Gauntlet was already calculating the traffic flow, the positioning of the mine and the lines of sight.  Force suggested a Mk 82 Claymore.  Mk 82s needed at least thirty minutes to safely deploy.  The only commonly available mine with enough force to crack an armored car.  They were ten minutes from the Fujiama Corporation’s public office.  No other traffic.  Mine on a remote trigger.  No shop fronts.  Minimal escape routes.  This was a kill zone.  They were the target.

"Gee!"  Kris shouted, coughing and sputtering as he forced his lungs to work.  "Gee! We need to get out of here!"

Gee's seat, already buckled and warped by the crash, heaved and Kris heard Gee snarl.  Kris' blood turned to ice.  That hadn't even sounded human, much less rational.  Even as Kris was recoiling, he heard the crack-snap of plastic shattering and Gee's seatbelt tore loose.

"Drey?"  Gee demanded, voice barely over a whisper.  " _Drey_?"

Kris could hear Gee's breathing and the grunt as Gee tore at the seat restraining him.  Kris' hand was shaking as he reached out to where Drey was slumped against the door of the jeep.  His fingers left smudges of red and grey on Drey's neck and for a second, Kris couldn't feel his pulse.  Then Drey's head tipped a little closer to the window and he groaned, almost too soft for Kris to hear. 

"He's breathing," Kris assured him.  Gee snarled.

Kris flinched back and Gee's snarl rose to a roar.  Kris scrabbled for the catches on his belt as Gee ripped the last of the wreckage away.  The thump as Gee punched the roof was nearly as loud as the explosion and Kris curled away as the bolts holding the roof ripped clean out.  The roof didn't fall to the ground, they were too close to the building for that, but there was enough room to get out.

Kris scrambled backwards as Gee lifted Drey out with a deliberate, controlled care that clashed with the madness in his eyes.  Kris kept his mouth tightly shut.  He wished for his deck or his wrist-comp but his bag had been in the back of the jeep.  He didn't look directly at Gee, swallowed the slick, thick blood in his throat and fought to keep his breathing quiet and non-threatening.

He wasn't a threat to Gee, Kris thought as hard as he could; like he could beam the thoughts direct into Gee's brain.  He was nothing, nobody, just a weak little meat-sack that wasn't even worth noticing.  He left his hands hanging, slack and open as the air shivered with Gee's low growl.  Kris' heart was pounding and his throat worked as he struggled not to choke.  Gee's crosshairs glowed red across his eyes.  Blood was trickling down the side of his face and Kris watched the veins popping in his temples, writhing like snakes.

Kris kept his head down.  His brain was racing, searching for an escape route that didn't exist.  'Cyber-psychosis' they called it on the street and Kris knew it was an over-simplification, mind helpfully listing the twenty to thirty different disorders that were covered by the street term.  Knowing that Gee was probably having an 'Augmentation-Induced Paranoid Sociopathic Psychosis' episode wasn't going to change a goddamn thing if Gee decided Kris was a threat.  

Of course, Kris thought, if Gee decided he was a threat then Kris was going to die so fast he probably wouldn't feel it.  Kris had a mental list of all the cyberware Gee hadn't gotten around to downgrading or removing.  It had been habit; part of the information net Kris kept at his fingertips about everyone he cared about.  It hadn't ever been this life-endingly important.

Ironically, it was the ambushers who saved him.  Gee must have heard them coming because Gee's head snapped around and he growled again.  Kris blinked and Gee was moving away, still carrying Drey.  He wasn't paying any attention to Kris. 

Kris' hands were shaking as he fumbled with the belts holding him in place.  Something ripped as he slipped sideways and he tore the pocket of his jeans as he pulled himself out of the wreck.  Gee was gone and when Kris turned to look for him, there was a bang and a bullet hole appeared in the wall beside his head.  Kris dived for the dubious cover of the alley nearby.

He got his back against the wall, breathing heavily and fumbled for his phone.  The skin on the back of his neck prickled like he could feel the crosshairs settling there.  Okay, okay, Kris took a deep breath.  Someone was targeting them.  Someone who had the contacts to get their hands on a Mk 82 and knew the route they were going to take to Fujiama Corporation HQ. 

Gee might have been the target.  They were back on the West Coast, after all, but Kris had that gnawing sense of a pattern emerging.  First, Kickstand's last minute appointment kept him and Firecracker in NYC.  Then, Cheeks was arrested - right after the show when Gee's stress levels were fraying his, normally, iron control.  Then someone who couldn't have been Killjoy, no matter what Adam had told his brother, had grabbed Glitch and Tommy from their dressing rooms.  Then the ambush, right in their path.

Fuck.  Kris closed his eyes and swore.  How the fuck had they missed this?  He and Root and SYS had been watching and searching and-

There were more gunshots.  A lot more gunshots and Gee's voice raised to a shout.  Kris curled in on himself and clenched his fists.  He didn't have his deck or his wrist-comp and while his clothes were at least equivalent to light armor, they were ripped and his ribs protested when he breathed too deep.  All he had was his wallet, a few credchips and...his phone.

Cursing himself this time, Kris fumbled it out then hesitated.  If he called the police while Gee was having a psychotic break, they'd shoot him.  He didn't have the contacts in LA that he'd had back in San D.  What he did have, Kris reminded himself, was Val's number.  He tapped out a text message - she'd have jacked in as soon as Glitch's security programs had raised the alarm and she would respond faster if he texted.

He didn't know what sort of backup plans Val had but she always had at least one.  Kris told her where they were, what had happened and that Gee's psychotic break was (hopefully) temporary.

' _GOT IT_ ' Val's answer came.  ' _YOU?_ '

Kris flinched at another angry burst of gunfire and he stood carefully, tensing at the echo of shouting voices.  He edged further back into the alley.  He couldn't help Gee fight.  Gee wouldn't let him close enough to help Drey.  He was useless here.  Kickstand was safe in NYC with Firecracker.  Cheeks was safe in Fujiama's secure lockup; Dorsett Gibson's lawyers would see to that.  Glitch was safe in LA General; if Adam hadn't seen to that, Val had.  Scarlett and Karly would keep themselves safe.

The only person exposed was Adam and Kris started to run.  The alley followed the building around and branched out.  Kris reached for his phone again, this time bringing up the stripped down interface that let him direct the suite.

" _LOC: SF?_ " 

It took nearly a full minute for the co-ordinates to pop up and Kris frowned down at his phone.  The co-ordinates were vague and Kris’ eye kept flicking over to the bio-monitor icon, already set to Adam’s pattern.  The lines of Adam's bio-monitor were grayed out and Kris swallowed.  It didn't mean anything; bio-monitors could be jammed easily; passing security sweeps, old phones and information kiosks could interrupt the signal.  Adam was fine.  He'd taken his guns and his street armor and he had even remembered his phone.  True, Adam wasn't answering his phone but that could have a hundred innocent explanations; he could be driving, dealing with street scum or handling the police.

There was no real rational reason to be worried.  Kris didn't even have proof that this was a deliberate, sustained campaign; only his own irrational certainty that someone wanted to scatter them.  Adam could look after himself; he was _Silverfyre_.  He was fine.  He had to be.  Despite himself, Kris started to move faster.  His phone beeped but Kris ignored it, focused on getting to Adam before it was too late.  He had to criss-cross a few of the bigger roads before arriving at the address corresponding to the suite's co-ordinates.

It was a warehouse; one of the cheap, old pre-fabricated sheds with rust and sagging plastic windows that were barely big enough for a rat.  The streets around it were narrow and claustrophobic, and Kris guessed they were nearly three miles from the center of LA by the faint burn he could already feel in his lungs.  He'd left his respirator in his bag, now lost in the wreck.  The warehouse was dwarfed by the buildings all around it.  The door was artfully grubby and the hinges were new and bright steel.  Kris hesitated on the doorstep, pulling out his phone.  No signal and Kris couldn't be surprised.  Even his bio-monitor displayed the tiny amber pinprick of light that warned he was no longer connected to the Med-E-Vac network when he put his hand on the door.

Kris looked down the street, torn between the urgent need to be sure that Adam was all right and his rational brain's insistence that this had to be a trap.  He looked back at the door and felt his heart thump against his chest.  Caught in the door, just at the right height, was a thin strip of silver/black armored leather.  It looked like one of the straps sewn onto the shoulder of Adam's preferred street armor; the armor he'd been wearing.

Picking the lock took nearly three precious minutes and Kris was frantic by the time it finally clicked open.  He shoved the door open and found himself face to face with another door.  A quick glance around showed an entire bunker built almost flush with the inner walls of the warehouse.  The bunker was a squat oblong and there were no other doors aside from the thick metal door in front of him.  Kris swallowed and pushed at the door. 

The door swung obligingly open.  It hadn't been locked and Kris moved deeper.  Each door led to another small room and another door.  The way through was winding and confusing like the whole bunker was a maze and every time Kris hesitated or looked back, there was a .50 cal casing or a spot of blood or a few strands of ink-black hair clinging to the wall.

Kris lost count of the doors behind him, all his attention was on the door in front of him, and his heart was in his throat every time he opened a door, hoping and dreading that this time, Adam would be behind the unlocked door.  If none of the doors were locked, could Adam just have left?  Or could he be too injured to do more than go to ground and wait for help?

The door in front of him swung open and Kris jerked to a stop, eyes going wide in horror.

"ADAM!" Kris called desperately and Adam's head came up.  Kris' heart sank; Adam was on his knees, hands tied behind his back.  Adam's face was mottled with bruises and his eyes were swollen almost shut.  His hair hung lank and limp over his forehead.  A thick line of blood was smeared across his chin, probably from the gag that had been shoved in his mouth.  Adam looked like shit but he was alive and awake.

"We can do this the easy way," the voice came from speakers in the corners of the room.  It was electronically distorted and Kris didn't recognize the program.  The emotionless electronic drone sent shivers down his spine.  The light over Kris' head came on, dazzling him.  "Or the hard way..."

Adam wasn't alone.  As the lights came up, Kris saw the figure almost hidden in the shadows just behind him.  The light picked out the curve of a broad shoulder and the edge of a mask.  With the harsh light, Kris couldn't be sure of any details.  As he hesitated, the figure in the shadows raised a hand and the stark light gleamed off the muzzle of the gun as it came to rest against Adam's temple.

"NO!!" Kris flung himself forward. Blind terror gave him a burst of speed.  He heard the click of the trigger even over the sound of the door slamming behind him.

Nothing.

Adam was shaking his head, slurring something incomprehensible.  Alive! Kris' heart soared for a second then turned to ice.  The figure in the shadows was laughing, the electronic distortion turning it into a static hiss.  As he stepped into the light, the gun hit the floor and came to rest in a pool of light that reflected off the silver flame detail...

Adam's gun.  Kris stared down at it as the electronic masking cut out and still the figure laughed.  Kris knew that laugh.  Cold sweat pooled in the small of his back as the figure reached up to pull off his mask.  The gun clattered as it was dropped contemptuously at his feet.  Kris stumbled blindly backwards, shaking his head wordlessly.  This wasn't real.  This couldn't be real.  This was a nightmare.  His hands were shaking and his heart-rate should have red-lined his bio-monitor.

"Always said you'd be pretty when you cried, Hijack," Choppah's grin bared all his teeth.

Kris brought his hands up as Choppah surged forward.  Utterly futile and he knew it.  Choppah caught his left wrist, other hand coming up faster than Kris could dodge.  The sound of his ring finger breaking was impossibly loud.  Kris' knees buckled as the pain flared, white-hot and so strong that he couldn't breathe.  He could hear Adam, loud and desperate, but he couldn't make out the words.  Choppah's quiet, happy laugh drowned out everything else.

Kris curled forward over his arm and Choppah kicked out, connecting with Kris' ribs and Kris went flying backwards.  He hit the wall and a pyrotechnic explosion of pain lit up his nervous system.  Choppah was watching him and the small, pleased smile on his face made Kris flinch away.  The next three - four? - blows drove Kris to his knees, dry-retching as his blood dripped onto the plascrete in big red blobs.

The blood was a surreal scarlet against the grubby grey of the floor.  It was almost mesmerizing and Kris started to shake.  He couldn't breathe in enough air and he swallowed hard as his stomach rolled.  Alerts were flashing across the periphery of his vision; low blood pressure, pulse rate and red-edged boxes warning that his pyruvic and lactic acids were rising rapidly.  He was going into shock. 

Choppah laughed from too close and sheer animal panic pushed Kris back to his feet.  Another punch snapped his whole world sideways so hard that for a second, Kris thought his neck had snapped.  He hadn't even seen Choppah move but he forced his arms up to half-block the second punch.  It didn't really help.  Choppah's fists might as well have been sledgehammers for all Kris could do to block them.

Kris tried again and again to get the wall at his back but Choppah circled, keeping Kris in the centre of the room with precisely timed punches and kicks every time Kris tried to move.  Kris' basic-meat reflexes and adrenaline were no match for Choppah's enhanced cybernetics, but Kris tried because he couldn't just sit back and let Choppah break him. 

Without the data-connection, Kris wasn't enough to slow Choppah down.  He could try forever - he did try as hard as he could - but Kris was only flesh and bone in the end.  It might have taken hours, it might only have taken fifteen minutes but the end result was the same.  When Kris hit his knees again, he knew he didn't have the strength to rise again.

The floor was icy-cold against his knees and his hands and Kris could barely breathe.  He could hear Adam's muffled voice over the thunder of his heart.  He couldn't hear Choppah moving and he spat another glob of blood onto the floor.  There was a meaty thump and Adam fell silent.  Panic gave Kris the strength to snap his head up but Adam was alive.  The bruising around his eyes was already fading and if Kris had any emotional energy to spare, he'd be relieved.  Adam's eyes were fierce and he glared up at Choppah, jaw working as he cursed through the gag.  Kris' left arm buckled as the shiver of relief jarred his broken finger and Adam's full attention focused on him.  Adam shook his head as Choppah stepped back.

"So," Choppah said, turning away from Adam.  "It's been a long time, Hijack."

"Not," Kris choked.  "Long enough."

"Is that any way to talk to an old flame?" Choppah's teeth gleamed as he smiled.  "Used to be that you couldn't spend enough time talking to me."

"What can I say," Kris rasped.  "I upgraded..."

Choppah's smile stretched into a snarl.  Kris flinched back and Choppah's eyes glinted as he stepped into Kris' personal space.  He towered over Kris, a mountain of muscle and menace that filled the whole world.  The reek of cordite and the oxidized stink of cyberware made Kris gag.  Kris tried to get his feet under him but Choppah's hand was already closing around his throat, forcing him up.  Choppah was inhumanly strong, able to hold Kris just above the ground so Kris' toes skidded across the floor, trying to keep pressure off his windpipe.

"Always had such a smart mouth," Choppah laughed, catching Kris' left hand and crushing his broken finger.  Kris would have screamed but his breath had seized up in his lungs so his mouth opened silently.  Choppah pushed his thumb into Kris' mouth, pressing his tongue flat against the floor of his mouth.  "Used to wonder what else that mouth could do...?"

Kris bit him.  Choppah tossed him back and Kris hit the wall hard enough to send pain flaring the whole length of his body.  "You just don't quit, do you, baby?"

"Fuck,” Kris gasped,  "You."

"In front of your man?" Choppah pretended shock and glanced sideways at Adam.  Kris didn't - couldn't - look at Adam.  Choppah was playing the fool but Kris was watching his eyes.  If Kris looked to Adam, Choppah would read everything in his face.  Better not to look and hope that Choppah wouldn't turn his fists on Adam.  "Is the shine coming off already?"

"No,"  Choppah caught the front of his shirt and hauled him up.  "You never learned, did you, Hijack?"

Kris didn't try to answer, focusing instead on the growing effort it took just to breathe.  He could hear Adam's cuffs rattling against something and his increasingly urgent sounds.  Kris looked up and met Choppah's eyes head on.  Flat, glassy blue and the crosshairs gleamed red for a second but Kris didn't flinch.

Choppah could kill him.  Hell, Choppah was going to kill him but Kris would be damned if he let the bastard have the satisfaction of terrorizing him any further.  Choppah's expression twisted and he shook Kris once.  There was a sickening grating sensation in his chest and white-fire flashes of pain.  Kris clawed weakly at Choppah's wrist, hands shaking.  Choppah's expression smoothed out.

"I didn't plan on him being here," Choppah said, all easy like they were hanging out with beers and watching the game.  "He shouldn't be here.  I didn't really want him but that fuckwit Crusader wanted his hide enough to make it worth my while."

Crusader?  Kris flicked his eyes towards Adam before he could catch himself.  Crusader had been part of this?  Choppah laughed.

"I know," his lip curled.  "What can I say?  I was slumming it and at least the fuckwit knew how to hold a gun.  And your little friends wouldn't look twice at a 'merc' with his stats so he was useful there too.  I shouldn't have expected him to actually be competent.  Stupid fucker couldn't even keep hold of his slaps."

Adam must have gone still because Choppah looked over at him, smirking.  "Yeah, good call by the way.  The cyanide patch could have solved all our problems."

Kris didn't like the way Choppah smirked at Adam and he kicked out.  He wasn't at the right angle to make it count but Choppah hissed all the same and backhanded Kris.

Adam's voice rang out clear and loud.  "LEAVE HIM ALONE!"

"Or what?" Choppah taunted.  "You'll kill me?  Over a gutter punk data runner?  _You_ 're not that stupid."

Kris choked and Choppah laughed in his face.

"You always were too trusting, H," he shook Kris and Kris clung to his wrists to keep from being shaken apart.  "How long did it take for him to talk you in bed?  One night?  Two?  Or were you feeling all Puritanical and held out for three?"

"It wasn't..." Kris rasped, "...like that."

"The hell it wasn't," Choppah dropped him into a pile of aching bones and bruised flesh.  "He just needed to keep you sweet long enough to blow the roof off Trojan, H, you know that."

"That's not true!"  Adam again, voice raw and hoarse.

"He's a big time merc," Choppah said, crouching down as Kris struggled to push himself back up.  His right arm buckled; black flecks danced across his eyes.  Choppah sounded almost gentle.  "Big time rockstar too.  Got a black book bigger than the LA phone directory.  He could have any pretty little thing he wants and you really think that he wants you?  You're supposed to be the smart one, baby."

"Don't listen to him," Adam pleaded.

"Take away your deck," Choppah curled his fingers around Kris' left ring finger where the silver tattoo was still shining, even as his erratic heart-rate made the bigger tattoos flicker and dim.  Kris blinked, slow and stupid and Choppah smiled.  "Take away your plugs and you're nothing, H.  Not even street scum."

Pain; white hot and fuck, it hurt.  Kris screamed as Choppah's grip tightened and the broken bones in his finger grated together.

"How could you be anything," Choppah asked in that sweet, reasonable tone, "but the means to his end?"

"Kris!"  Adam was calling his name as Choppah let him go and Kris folded over his mangled fingers.

"You're wearing his mark," Choppah breathed in his ear and Kris' stomach clenched.  "You're bought and fucking paid for, just like any of the street walkers he pays to suck his dick."

Kris vomited, spitting bile and blood onto the floor and Choppah reared back.  Kris heaved again and spat to try clearing his throat.  Tears - even Kris couldn't have said if they were from pain or embarrassment - leaked out and Kris closed his eyes.

"Look at yourself,"  Choppah mocked and Kris shook his head.  He didn't look up.  He could hear Adam begging him to look up, not to listen, look at him, please Kris.  "You couldn't protect your friends.  You couldn't protect your brother.  You couldn't protect your boss.  All you do, all you are is a fuck-up, baby.  How can you really think anyone could want you?"

Kris didn't answer.  He let himself slump sideways.  He didn't respond to Adam's frantic pleas.  He let Choppah haul him up by his right arm.  He hung limply from Choppah's grip.  The alerts flickering at the corner of his vision were all red.  The endorphin boosters were tapped out, leaving him floating.  He barely felt the fresh surge of pain.  His right arm was a dull, burning weight.  His head was spinning.  His legs felt like jello and buckled under him.  He was so very, very tired.  His mouth tasted of copper and bile.  The world fractured and spun every time he blinked.

Adam was calling his name, voice tight and panicked.  Kris could just see him, straining uselessly against the cuffs.  C-SWAT grade, Kris noted absently.  The tiny, logical core of his mind was tallying up the broken bones, the torn muscles, the scrambled cyberware and the blood loss.  This close, Adam had to be seeing the same readout on his own display.  Kris regretted that.  Death didn't scare him as badly as failure did.  He'd failed Adam once already.  He should have known Choppah was coming after him.

Choppah shook him again.  A fresh burst of pain exploded in Kris' shoulder.  Fractured collarbone.  Kris hadn't done that before.  Still not unconscious; Cale always used to say Kris had extra helpings of stubborn where most folks kept their common sense.  Choppah was still talking.  Kris wasn't listening.  Kris flexed his shoulder.  The pain nearly blacked him out completely.  Even suicidal stubbornness wasn't going to keep him on his feet much longer.  There were dark blotches spinning across his eyes and every breath felt like someone was sandpapering the inside of his chest.

"Adam," Kris straightened his neck.  Choppah paused.  Adam was staring up at him, eyes bright and fierce like he could just will Kris to hang on.  Kris tried to smile.  "I love you."

Then Kris swung Adam's gun up, held tight in his right hand, and pulled the trigger.  He wasn't a good shot but this close, he didn't have to be.  The point-blank impact of a .50 cal bullet turned Choppah's twisted, sneering face into red mist. 

They fell together, blood and brain matter everywhere.  Kris crashed to the ground and every bone in his body screamed.  The gun nearly hit him in the face, blown out of his hand by the recoil and clattering to the ground.  His shoulder felt like it had taken a direct grenade hit.  The gun was still anchored securely to his plug by its live-wire connector.  The fresh wave of pain from his wrist nearly dragged him under; only Adam's voice, shrill and loud, kept Kris clinging to consciousness.

Only barely because Kris _hurt_.  The alerts were out of focus, going dull.  Even his tattoos were dark; only the silver flames, barely visible under the blood, still glowed.  Kris could see it shining as his heart jostled against his lungs.  Glitch had really done a good job.

"Kris! KRIS!!" Adam sounded mad, Kris thought fuzzily.  It didn't seem fair that Adam was angry at him.  He should have been angry with Choppah.  "KRIS!!"

"Hmmwst?" Kris rolled his head to look at him.

"Kris," Adam was straining towards him.  "I need you to stay awake for me.  Okay, baby?  No passing out, all right?  Come on, baby, look at me."

"Everything hurts," Kris rasped, eyes tearing up as he rolled himself over.  It would have hurt less to roll over broken glass.  He swallowed, felt the tickle of a cough and swallowed again.  His throat was full of something slick and gloopy.  The lights must have been failing, the shadows were getting darker, spreading like ink blots and it was cold.  Choppah's blood was hot, sticky and Kris wanted it off.  He wanted to be able to touch Adam, wanted to be sure he was alive.  One of these things, Kris realized slowly, was possible.

Kris' left arm was dead weight, bleeding as Kris dragged himself inch-by agonizing inch across the concrete floor.  The gun clattered along, dangling out of Kris' plug and Kris couldn't keep track of where it would bump next.  It took everything he had just to keep moving and he didn't look up, didn't dare imagine anything but the next quarter-inch because that was all he could mange.

His right arm was definitely broken.  Fresh spikes of pain stole his breath every other second and his ribcage sounded like a pepper grinder with every push but Adam's voice kept going, a stream of reassurances and encouragement that kept Kris clinging on.  He couldn't hear the words but he didn't need to.  Adam was there.  Adam was close.  Just a little farther, just a little farther...

After an eternity of pain and despair, Kris slumped against Adam, cheek pressed against his knee and struggled to breathe past the need to cough.  His eyes were burning, tears stinging along the tender bruises and scrapes on his face.  All the injuries he'd ignored were aching or burning, and just white-hot searing. 

He couldn't get words out or move.  The fingers on his left hand were twitching in time with his heart.  Adam somehow managed to fold himself in half just long enough to press his cheek against Kris' hair and Kris breathed out a choked, shivery sob.

"Did so good, baby," Adam crooned.  He felt a hundred degrees warmer than Kris or the arctic air around him.  His voice wavered a little and Kris could feel his cheek moving.  The inky splotches were spreading, taking chunks of the room out every time Kris blinked.  "So fucking good.  Just one more thing, okay?  One last thing and I'll handle everything else."

Kris whined low in his throat. He was shaking, Even breathing hurt and Kris honestly didn't think he could do more than that.

"I know you can do it," Adam said, voice cracking a little.  "Kris, baby, I need you to get me loose."

Kris blinked and managed to get his head up enough to see the handcuffs and the bloody lines they'd cut across Adam's wrists.  Outrage lent him just enough strength to get upright - more or less- and, with Adam crooning love and reassurance in his ear, he struggled with the lock.  Adam's wrists were red, all the way from the curve of his palm to the edge of his sleeve.  Black dots with electrified outlines were dancing in front of his eyes and the room started to slide to the left.  Kris gave up trying to make his left hand work immediately.  Just looking at it made his stomach churn.  It didn't matter; Kris only needed his right hand to pick a lock.  The lock was fiddly, overly intricate and Kris had to lean against Adam's arm to hide the frustrated sob.  It seemed to take forever but, just as Kris seriously thought he was going to black out, the lock gave with a snap and Kris fell against Adam.

Adam was warm, reassuringly solid and under the stink of sweat and cordite, he smelled of home and safe and _Adam_.  The relief left Kris boneless.  Adam was alive.  Adam was okay.  Kris felt Adam's arms close carefully around him and buried his head against Adam's chest.  Adam's hand stroked carefully along his back and Adam sang softly.  Kris couldn't make out the words.  He closed his eyes.

He lost a chunk of time, just clinging to Adam and struggling not to scream.  When Kris could process again, the gun had been unsnapped from his plug and Adam was holding it.  His other arm was still tight about Kris' shoulders.  He was still wearing his armor.  Kris could see where the detail work on the left shoulder had been torn loose.  Kris' blood was making weird streaky patterns on Adam's armor, blurring the clean lines of the silver flames.  Kris tried to wipe it clean but the blood smeared and spread under his fingers.

"Back with me, babe?"  Kris grunted and Adam huffed out a laugh.  "Let's get the hell out of here."

"That...that was a shitty...one liner," Kris rasped.  Adam's arm tightened around him and Kris buried a hiccup of hysterical laughter against Adam's chest.  Out was good.  Out was _fantastic_.  He had to lean heavily on Adam just to get to his feet and he would have fallen right back on his face if Adam hadn't grabbed him.  Adam wasn't much better, swaying as Kris lurched back against him.

"Okay," Adam said after a few uncertain seconds of swaying steadied into a tenuous balance; both of them leaning into the other.  "Okay.  We can do this.  This will totally work."

Slowly, swaying together and stumbling drunkenly back and forth, they picked their way back out through the maze of corridors.  Kris didn't remember how he'd gotten in.  Adam was steering because it took all of Kris' strength just to stay upright.  His mind was blank, fragments of thought drifting through a numb void.  Something was rattling and Kris couldn't tell what it was until Adam looked down at him, face creased up in a frown. 

Kris' teeth were chattering.  It took him another endless pause to put the two pieces of information together and he was suddenly aware of the muscles of his jaw that were shuddering and the way his cheek ached every time his teeth met.  Kris gagged, nearly losing his balance and Adam steadied him.  Kris was shaking.  Adam urged him on a little faster.

Kris' thoughts drifted away again.  He was aware they were still moving but the numbness spread through his mind and out along the aches and pains that were all Kris could feel of his body.   He could still hear Adam's voice; words running into a comforting blur of sound.  The cold air hit him like a slap on his face and Kris stumbled.  His bio-monitor was redlining - all the numbers in freefall.  There were more voices, loud and demanding and blue strobing lights filled the world and Adam's voice was rumbling through his chest and Kris' words came out treacle thick and slow when he tried to reply.  Adam was shaking him but it didn't hurt anymore.  The world was fuzzy and the black splotches ate everything and Kris fell headlong into the darkness.


	24. Chapter 24

Pain.

That was the first thing that Adam felt as he blinked.

Pain and light.

He pulled at his hand to cover his eyes, but he couldn't seem to get it to come any closer.  He blinked again, bleary eyed and fuzzy, and caught the sharp glint of steel around his wrist before his optics refocused.  Adam frowned, hearing the harsh clink of metal as it chinked against the hardened steel.  For a moment, a terrible moment, he was back in that room, unbreakable C-SWAT cuffs around his wrists, too tight and digging in as he watched Kris get torn apart by his psychotic ex.  Adam started to struggle.  His fingers curled and his nails dug into his palms, cutting through the skin.  Warmth covered his palm and he could hear the drip, drip, drip of liquid as it hit something solid.  Blond and blue were the only features that he could make out as his optics rapidly shifted focus, tracking a figure as they came closer.  He could hear his heartbeat pounding through his ears, too fast, too loud and his panic spiked.  Adam tugged hard as he could on the chains holding him, fingers clenching for guns that weren't there.

"Shush, pet, that's right.  Calm yourself down and just relax.  That's the way."

The voice was soothing, feminine in a matronly way, female definitely and Adam stilled.  He squinted, blinking rapidly as he tried to get his eyes to focus on the face of the person standing over him.  It wasn't Choppah.  That much he knew.  It couldn't be Choppah.  The voice was wrong, and an image flashed across his mind of Choppah laid out, surrounded by blood.  The pieces slotted into place as the memories fizzled and sparked, the blanks filling in.  Choppah was dead.  Kris had put down that miserable excuse for a merc with a single shot from one of Adam's guns.  Pride filled him up, pushing even the pain aside as he remembered the moment.  One shot, dead center.  Perfect and...

Kris!

Where was Kris? 

Was he here somewhere, just out of Adam's reach?

Was he alive?

Adam had been lucky.  Kris had fallen as soon as they'd hit the air, flatlined as soon as the door had slammed shut behind them.  Kris had been dying second by agonizing second and Adam had urged him on.  He'd made him move, inch by inch, closer to death with every movement but Adam needed him to move.  Kris had faded after that, groaning in pain and shock as Adam forced him to his feet and to help Adam carry him out of the room, out of the building.  Adam was so grateful that he always carried a spare Med-E-Vac card.  He'd searched for it frantically as he'd carried Kris out, half-stumbling, half-dragging him out of that room and then losing precious seconds as he'd tried to crack it, his hands slippery with blood.  He'd counted the seconds until he'd heard the sound of engines screaming as he's tried to remember the basics of first aid.  He'd tried to stop the bleeding, tried to hold back the tide but it was useless.  There were too many cuts, too many places and Adam didn't have enough hands.  Kris had gone cold as he'd held him and whispered nonsense in his ear, trying to keep him there, trying to get some reaction.  He'd sung lines of songs, the only lines that he could think of.  He'd sung them again and again until he'd felt hands pulling him away and Kris had been loaded into a cryo-chamber, and frozen with a press of a button so that they could get him back to the hospital.

Hospital.  That must be where he was.

He'd been loaded in beside Kris, medics pressing wads of padding against his torn wrists, trying to stop the bleeding.  They'd soaked through in seconds, replaced by new wadding but it made no difference.  Words had floated around him but he hadn't been listening.  Adam had kept his eyes on Kris the whole time, unwilling to do more than blink until they were on the ground and Kris had been whisked away and Adam led away in the opposite direction to be cared for and tended to.  That was where his memory ended.  As hard as he tried, he couldn't recall anything past that.  Had he passed out?  Had something happened?

Adam blinked again and his vision swam as his optics struggled to process colors and shapes.  Eventually, the image came clear and Adam found himself looking up into the matronly face of a nurse who was holding his wrist, her other hand holding an upside down watch.  He looked around, taking in details for the first time.  He was restrained; thick, reinforced restraints around both his wrists on top of a thick wad of bandages.  Red peeked through white of the bandage and as the nurse checked, she tutted disapprovingly.

"It's okay, pet.  Don't struggle and we'll get you patched up," she spoke in hushed tones, "Look at that.  You've pulled your stitches.  Told the doctor that would happen but he just told me to mind my business.  As if putting patients back together isn't my business.  These young doctors these days," she smiled down at him, "I swear, they think that us nurses are just part of the furniture."

Adam couldn't open his mouth.  Something was holding his mouth closed and he struggled again, throwing his head from side to side.  He couldn't breathe, the acrid metal taste of the medical gag bringing Choppah's face back to the forefront of his mind.  He thrashed, hands pulling at the restraints in a vain attempt to tear free.  Warning sounds echoed around the room, pings and alarms rising in pitch until the nurse stepped forward holding him down.  Adam stopped moving immediately, eyes darting around as he searched the room for shadows, threats, but there was only the nurse.

"Don't do that, pet," she brushed a strand of hair back from his forehead, "You'll only hurt yourself.  I told that young pup that this would happen but he just had to overrule me.  No choice for it now, I suppose.  I'm sorry about this, pet, but you haven't given me any other option."

She turned away and when she turned back, she had an injector in her hand filled with a neon blue liquid.  Adam tensed, trying to convince her that he didn't need it, that he didn't want it, but she just kept on talking as she pressed the nose of the needle into his nanite port and pressed the plunger.  Fire burned through his veins, pulsing and searing as it went and just as he thought that he would expire from the pain, darkness came rushing up to meet him again.

\--

Adam woke up.  The world came into sharp focus instantly, optics dimming the sharp light and giving Adam a chance to look around the room.  It was a hospital room but more than that.  It was an isolation suite.  Monitors fitted to the walls pinged and beeped and he saw his vital signs flutter as his breath caught in his throat.  His icons were grayed out and for a moment, he couldn't move.  On the wall opposite him, there was a complete list of his cyberware, marked out clearly with the make and model beside them and right next to them, a single word: disabled.  Only his eyes, ears and processor were online.  Adam struggled but he was still restrained.  There was a fresh flash of pain and Adam stilled. 

This was a cyberpsychosis holding room.  This was where they took the bad cases, the guys who had gone a little too close to the edge and fallen over.  Most mercs who wound up in a room like this left in a body bag.  Adam didn't have cyberpsychosis.  He didn't.  He was sure of that.  He wasn't riding an edge like Gee or over the edge like other mercs that he'd worked with.  He'd been tied up, beaten and, at one stage, come damned close to being killed.  Three hours he'd hung there.  Three hours of questions and punches. 

But that was nothing to what Kris had gone through.  Mind games, torture, and even that was too light a word for what Choppah had done.  He'd torn apart the foundations of Kris' world, or tried to.  His words, intended to cut deep, had rocked Kris, and Adam had seen Kris fracture under the onslaught.  He'd brought Kris to the brink with just words and held him there, and Adam didn't know if he'd fallen over that edge or if he hung on by his fingertips still. 

He hoped, _hoped_ that Kris was alright, that he was alive.  If he was alive, then everything else could be worked out.  The memory of the Trojan job and the deep sense of loss came unbidden to the front of his mind and Adam had to shake his head to dislodge the despair rising up.  He'd seen the trail of blood that Kris had left behind.  He saw the broken bones, the bruises spreading out.  He'd seen the sheer effort that it had taken Kris to cross the floor but he'd done it.  At what cost though?  Adam closed his eyes as the prickle of tears picked at them. 

"If you don't get your ass out of my way and let me speak to my client, then I swear that I will file suit today that'll leave this hospital bankrupt.  My client will own your grandchildren and your grandchildren's grandchildren."

Adam recognized the voice.  It was Drew, Kris' old fixer.  He blinked back the tears and craned his head and sure enough he could just make out the angry face of the fixer on the other side of the glass, half obscured by a hulking wall of muscle in a cheap-ass uniform.  Some more threats and the muscle moved.  Drew closed the door behind him and stepped closer, pulling up a chair and moving it into Adam's eyeline. 

"Kris?"

Adam needed to know that before anything else. 

Drew nodded, "He's alive.  I don't know the details.  They're refusing to tell anyone more than that who isn't next-of-kin.  I've been able to sneak a little information from some of the nurses but nothing concrete.  He's in surgery.  It's serious but I don't know the specifics.  They've taken everything offline," Drew sighed.  "Val can't get anything from his bio-monitor while he's in surgery but she's watching the requisition forms and the hospital's network for news."

Adam sagged in the bed.  He hadn't heard much more than the first two words.  The tension in his chest eased and he sighed in relief, tears coming to his eyes and rolling down his temples. 

"Thank God!" Adam breathed.  "Thank God.  I don't know if I could have..."

Drew fidgeted for a second before he reached out and covered Adam's hand with his own.  Adam grasped it as best he could.

"I know, 'Fyre," Drew nodded, "Val called me as soon as Glitch was admitted.  I've been here a couple of hours.  They wouldn't let me in to see you until I could produce some sort of documentation to say that I was your lawyer.  Thankfully, I know someone who is excellent at electronic filing so that wasn't a problem."  Drew paused and scrubbed a hand over his face, "'Fyre, I gotta know.  Is there a lawyer that you trust?  I mean, shit...  The hospital have filed a case with the police department and until the matter has been resolved, you've been taken off Jay's next-of-kin list."

"What?" Adam's voice cracked, "What sort of case?"

"Domestic abuse." Drew pulled a small PADD from his jacket pocket and scrolled to something, tapping it and then turning it to show Adam.  "With Jay's injuries, and your injuries, they think that it was some sort of domestic situation gone wrong, some sort of murder/suicide thing that ended in a psychosis triggered remorse."

"WHAT?" Adam tried to sit up but with the restraints, he couldn't do more than get his shoulders off the bed.  "I would never hurt him.  Never.  This was Choppah.  This was..."

"It's okay," Drew stood and pushed Adam back down on the bed.  "We know.  Storm Front pulled Gee out of a tight spot and then went out to track you two.  She came across the body.  Said to tell you 'Nice shot'."

"Wasn't me," Adam shook his head, "It was Kris.  Kris took him down.  I was chained to a fucking wall.  I couldn't do anything, Drew.  I wanted to.  So bad.  I couldn't do anything except watch..."  Adam's voice cracked, "I had to watch as he...  Oh God."  Fresh tears rolled down Adam's cheeks.

"You'll need to talk to the cops, 'Fyre," Adam nodded. 

"Okay, then, I'll set that up and see what I can do about springing you from here," Drew promised.

Adam closed his eyes, squeezing them shut until he could see pinpoint pricks of light inside his eyelids.  He needed to get out of here.  He needed to see Kris.  He needed to be there when Kris woke up.  He needed him to know that everything Choppah had said was a lie.  He needed Kris to know that he loved him more than anything else in the world.  He needed Kris to know that he was sorry.  He needed to make sure that...

"Drew," Adam's eyes snapped open, panic rising in his voice.  "If they've taken me off the next-of-kin list, then who’s making decisions about Kris?  Do they know about his allergies?  Do they have his file?"

"Kickstand’s his next next-of-kin," Drew pulled out a phone and flicked it open, thumbing the buttons as he answered, "They've got a copy of his file.  I'll get a nurse to come in and you can tell her about the allergies, make sure they've got everything on there.  I've got Kickstand and Firecracker on an express flight out here.  They should be down in about two hours."

That was good news. There'd be someone there for Kris even if it couldn't be him. Good. That was good. Kickstand knew Kris, knew how he thought. He'd make sure that Kris was okay even if Adam couldn't. How could anyone think that he'd hurt Kris? How could they?

Who the hell had filed that report? 

He loved Kris, more than anything in the world.  He'd die if it meant that Kris lived.  He'd come to that realization long before now but this just brought the situation into stark relief.  He loved Kris, really loved him. 

He needed to be with Kris.  He needed to know that he was alright.  He needed to touch him.  He needed to hold his hand and soothe his nightmares because Kris _would_ have nightmares about this.  Kris still had nightmares about the last time Choppah had almost killed him, this would just add fuel to the fire.  Adam hated the thought that Kris might wake up with no one beside him.  It sounded odd, but he hoped that he'd stay unconscious until Cale could get there.

Drew dialed someone and put the phone on loudspeaker.  It rang once, twice and Allison's voice answered.

"Hello?  Drew, is that you?"

"Yeah," Drew spoke up, "Got someone here who needs to hear a friendly voice."

"Adam?  Adam are you there?  Oh my God, are you okay?  I've been so worried.  We're on our way, I swear.  We'll be there soon."

"I'm here," Adam reassured her, "I'm doing okay.  How's Kickstand?"

"Worried, but okay," Allison answered, "I've had to take the aisle seat after he tried to go up and ask the pilot to go faster.  I'm pretty sure he's going as fast as he can already, but the flight attendants looked fairly close to just opening the door and throwing him out."  She sighed and Adam closed his eyes, "We're worried about both of you but we'll be there soon and we’re getting updates as fast as they come.  I'm handling everything, Adam, you just focus on getting better and we'll make sure that you're there for Jay, okay?"

Adam nodded, choked up too much to speak.  Drew picked the phone back up and ended the call with a quiet few words.  He patted Adam on the shoulder, squeezing lightly, "I'll get you out of here.  I promise.  We'll get everything cleared up so that you can be there for him."

Drew squeezed his shoulder again and left, the door slamming with a solid clunk behind him and Adam closed his eyes.  Please.  Please, let Kris be okay.

\--

Adam talked to the cops.  He talked to the nurses.  He talked to everyone who came to speak to him, telling his story and answering their questions.  He was tired and all they seemed interested in doing was asking him the same questions again and again, trying to catch him in a lie, but he wasn't lying.  Eventually, and with some persuasion from Drew, they released him.  Adam was dressed in seconds, asking for paperwork that would let him discharge himself.  He wasn't doing Kris any use here in a hospital room.  He needed to be...  He didn't know where he needed to be but it wasn't here.

Drew kept him briefed as Adam paced up and down the waiting room floor, using the checkered pattern distract him from trying to picture what they were doing to Kris behind the double doors.  Nurses swept by every couple of minutes and security had started to include the small room on their rounds, watching him with a careful eye as they continued on their path.  David was there, Noah beside him at the door, keeping watch on the corridors and making sure that they weren't disturbed.  Tommy had hobbled by a few minutes before, holding the back of his hospital gown closed as he'd sat down and pulled Adam into the seat beside him, holding his hand and reassuring him that Kris was a stubborn little thing and that he'd be back to his usual self before Adam knew it.  Adam nodded and smiled, and Tommy left to go back to Glitch.

Adam's eyes shot up to the doors every time they opened.  Cale and Allison had arrived and immediately, Cale had pulled him into a hug.  Allison had kissed him on the cheek and then disappeared off to find a hospital official who could tell them something, anything.  Cale's hair was a mess and his eyes were rimmed in red.  He was dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, grease stains on the legs, like he hadn't had a chance to do more than jump a cab.  Adam probably looked worse, but he didn't care. 

The nurse that came back tried to beckon Cale away from Adam, to talk to him privately, but Cale had pulled Adam up with him.

"He's my brother's partner.  He can hear this."

The nurse looked Adam over and with a pinched expression, nodded, "He's in critical condition.  The surgeons have finished operating on him and he's been moved to ICU but I think that you should prepare yourselves for the worst.  He had extensive internal bleeding and the surgeons have hyper-packed his blood with healing nanites but it may not be enough.  They've done what they can for now, but..." she shrugged a shoulder.

Adam sat down hard, breathing hard as his legs went out from under him.

"What do I need to do to get Silverfyre in to see his partner?" Cale asked.

"Sir, I really can't..." the nurse started.  "I'll get you an administrator.  They can explain the situation to you."

"Just get me whatever I need to sign," Cale ordered.

Allison sat down beside Adam and held his hand, squeezing it tight.  Minutes passed between blinks of his eyes and Cale's hand on his shoulder startled him out of another set of dark memories.  Adam's hand was rubbing at his bandages, pressing in until the muscles protested, screaming out and reminding him that he was alive.  Allison kept his hand in hers, rubbing the back of it with her thumb.  Adam looked down at her hand and he couldn't help thinking that it was too small, too feminine, too...  It wasn't Kris' hand.

"Adam, honey, did you hear Cale?" she asked.

Adam frowned, looking up at Cale.  He shook his head, "Sorry, no.  No, I wasn't listening.  What did you say?"

"I said, do you want to go in and sit with him?  He's allowed have one visitor at a time.  Thought you'd want to be the first."

Adam pulled Cale into a hug, hardly daring to breathe.  His hands were shaking and the world swam around him.  He was walking towards the door when the thought crossed his mind that maybe he should let Cale go first.  They were brothers.  Adam was just his... 

"Go on," Cale said, "I'll see him later.  I'm not going anywhere either, man.  Go see him, let him know that you're there."

Adam nodded and left with a junior doctor. 

ICU was intimidating.  High-tech equipment lined every wall, taking up all available space.  Kris looked so small in the white-sheeted bed, tubes and wires hooked into various ports and suddenly, Adam was afraid to step any closer in case he disturbed something vital.  The nurse's hand was on his back, leading him in gently.

"I know it can be quite startling at first," her hand rubbed a soothing circle on his back.  "We're monitoring him closely.  I'll bring you over a chair so that you can sit with him."

Adam nodded and moved closer.  Bandages covered Kris' arms and there was a drip line in the back of his hand.  Adam was so careful as he picked up Kris' hand and held it.  Kris' fingers tightened around his and Adam looked at Kris' face.  Kris was out of it, eyes closed and barely breathing.  Adam sat down in the chair and for a second, he couldn't even form the words to thank the nurse.  Adam lifted Kris' hand to his forehead, feeling the warmth against his brow and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry, babe.  I should have known.  I should have protected you, but I didn't.  Jesus, Kris, I wish that it was me here and not you."  Adam kissed Kris' fingers, "Please, babe.  Please, you've got to be alright.  I need you.  Oh God, I need you.  You can't leave me alone.  I love you.  Please, Kris, don't leave me.  I can't do this without you."

\--

Adam sat there, day after day, swapping with Cale as much as he could so that someone was there all the time, but he stayed every night, curled up in that too small chair, watching and waiting for Kris to open his eyes.  Allison had brought him a change of clothes every day and took him up to the family suite that the hospital had provided so that he could wash up and shave.  She gave him news too, filling the silence with chatter so that he couldn't dwell on the fact that Kris hadn't woken up yet.  Cale worried about Kris, but Allison seemed to pour all her worry into making sure that Adam and Cale were okay, making them eat and keeping them connected to the world around them.

She’d called Gunfire and talked to Case who was calling every couple of hours to find out if there were any updates.  He’d green-lighted time off for Adam, as much as he needed and lent Gunfire’s lawyers to Dorsett Gibson’s and they were currently taking Mercy apart brick by brick.  Adam’s single had gone platinum and every news station was clamoring for news of Adam and Kris but Case and Lillian were dealing with the press, drip-feeding them information under Allison’s watchful eye.  There were apparently fans holding a vigil outside the hospital, but Adam couldn’t bring himself to do more than wave from a window when Allison poked him.  He read Kris some of the well wishes that had been sent and scanned by security.

Nakamura had come up from San D and taken over their case, bringing his junior doctors with him.  In short order, Drey had been sprung from the detox facility where they'd been scrubbing toxic-levels of caffeine out of his system and had been reunited with Gee.  That was all it took to bring Gee down from this psychotic heights apparently.  Nakamura had taken Gee into a room and had a long talk with him about his cyberware.  Adam knew because Drey had been given to him to mind while Cale sat with Kris.  Gee was finally downgrading his ‘ware and Adam was glad.  Gee and Adam didn’t talk much but Adam went out of his way to find Gee and tell him that he was doing the right thing.  Gee grunted but accepted Adam’s words with a nod.

“You thought about it?” Gee asked.

Adam nodded, “Yeah, I’ve already started the process.  Nakamura is monitoring everything and we’re hoping that I’ll be ready for the first removal in about three months.”

Gee looked at Adam, “You didn’t say.”

Adam shrugged, “You weren’t ready to listen.  Thought about bringing it up a couple of times but…  Figured that I’d just say something to Drey and let him bring it to you.  Less likely to get shot that way.”

Gee gave nothing away, “Maybe.”

“You need anything…” Adam said.

“Just take care of your boy.”

Adam nodded and headed back to the ICU. 

Gee wasn’t the only new patient that Nakamura picked up.  David, Noah and QB had all been shuffled through surgery and, with a little help from Glitch and SYS, had their cortex bombs removed safely.  They’d spent a day recovering and then Gee had them back on their feet, new contracts put down in front of them.  Apparently, they’d managed to impress him, although there were some noises about substandard training and getting them kitted out with real guns and armor. 

David had sat with him a lot, taking directions from Allison and making sure that Adam kept his vitamin levels up.  He’d started talking to Eber again, and his mom.  Eber had passed on his best wishes through David.  He’d flown out to LA but he was waiting for Adam’s invitation to come in person.  That would be a long time coming, but Adam had to admit that his father was making an effort.  It wasn’t enough to erase the past, but it might be a start.

Drey had sworn off coffee for all of five hours before he’d forgotten and grabbed a cup from the vending machine in the waiting room.  Nakamura had told him that he’d have to limit his coffee or else give it up completely.  Gee was overseeing Drey’s coffee intake carefully and so far, Drey hadn’t even tried to sneak an extra cup.

Tommy had been released, along with Glitch but Glitch hadn't left the hospital yet, waiting close by until there was positive news from Kris.  Tommy had come to find Adam one of the days, worried about Glitch and how he wouldn't talk about Killjoy or what had happened, wouldn't let Tommy touch him and all Adam could tell him was to be there for Glitch while he worked it out.  Love him and tell him what he meant to Tommy.  There was an edge of despair to Adam's words; he was starting to lose his grip on the hope that burned in his heart for Kris.  Doctors, even Nakamura, came over, looked at his vitals and shook their heads, walking away to confer and change up the drug regimen that they were using.  It was grim faces and somber words whenever they spoke and Adam just wanted to catch one of the doctors and shake him until he told Adam what was happening.

Storm Front had organized security for the hospital, for Kris, incorporating the local Sisterhood charter, and it took a moment to realize why she was taking an interest.  Storm Front was the only female merc who had ever made it to the highest rank of the Iron Circle.  She'd run with Gee back in the day, and now, she was married to Val.  Val had gotten a leave of absence and had flown down as soon as she could, sitting with Glitch in the waiting room and keeping him from doing anything that would get him thrown out.  He'd met Val once before but under different circumstances and the life had drained out of her as she sat on an uncomfortable, plastic chair in the waiting room.  David, Noah and QB had been rounded up into the security detail and Cheeks, freshly sprung from a corporate holding cell, had started teaching them how to hold themselves with Scarlett's help.

None of that helped though.  None of that made Adam feel even a fraction better.  He needed to do something, he needed to say something but he didn't know what.  One lunchtime when he was sitting in the canteen with Glitch, absently drawing on a piece of napkin, it came to him.  Adam looked up at Glitch and tapped at the napkin, thinking.

"Glitch, I need..." Adam started and trailed off, stopping to shake his head.  This was probably a bad idea.  "I shouldn't ask you but I need a favor.  You designed Jay's tattoos, yeah?"

"Most of them," Glitch nodded, "Why?  What do you need?"

Adam pushed the napkin over, "Can you make that work?  Design something like that?"

Glitch looked at it for a moment, his finger tracing the lines, "Yeah, shouldn't be a problem.  You sure?"

Adam nodded.  "Yeah.  I should have done it long ago, man, but I didn't have the guts.  I need to do something and I think this might be it."

"You got it.  It'll take me a while to get it done but," Glitch shrugged, "I've got your back on this one."

Adam nodded and headed back up to take his seat beside Kris. 

"Adam?"

"Right here, babe.  Right here.  I'm not going anywhere."

But then he was moved to the side, pushed out of the way by nurses and doctors.  They fussed and poked until Nakamura strode over and shooed them away, taking over the poking and prodding until, with a nod, he looked up at Adam. 

"It's a good sign.  He'll drift in and out for a while most likely, but this is good."

Adam was torn between running for Cale and just staying there, right there beside Kris.  In the end, staying there won and one of the nurses went for Cale.  By the time Cale got there, Kris was asleep again, curled up and holding Adam's hand.  Adam couldn't feel guilty about it because Kris had been awake.  Kris had smiled at him.  Kris had said his name!

\--

Glitch had delivered on the favor two days later and Adam still felt the sting whenever he rubbed at his ring finger.  A delicate latticework of light lines that combined silver flames with circuitry patterns and juniper leaves wove around the base of his finger, the perfect complement to Kris' own design.  It was beautiful, and Kris noticed it almost immediately, brushing his fingers against the tattoo and smiling. 

Kris was still recovering, broken bones knitting together with nanite splints in place around the bones holding them together.  Subdermal microsplints had been placed around his fingers and he still couldn't bend them very much, but he was awake for longer now.  Kris didn't speak much, and he kept a tight hold of Adam’s hand, but he was there, wonderfully alive and getting better with every passing second.  Eventually, they moved him down to the High Dependency Unit and he could have more visitors, although Adam and the nurses were quick to shoo out anyone who tired him too quickly, and finally Adam was able to hold Kris during the night, holding him through the night terrors and singing quietly to him until they passed. 

Kris had been in the HDU for three days when Adam's bio-monitor started working again, picking up Kris' readings as his cyberware finally kicked in, rebooting and coming online for the first time in over a week.  The familiar buzz made him smile.  He flicked back and forth over the displays and watched the lights blink green.  They still occasionally flickered amber but it was becoming less frequent. 

Adam had a lot of time to think over the past week, lots of time to plan and plot and his mind was still a mess.  There were three constancies in his mind though, three important things that he needed to say to Kris just as soon as he was sure that Kris would stay awake long enough to hear them.  When he finally plucked up the nerve, it was a Thursday evening and everyone had left for the night.  It was just them, and that seemed perfect.

Adam pushed his chair closer, scraping it along the floor.  Kris turned, wincing at the sound and Adam grimaced.

"Babe, you feeling okay?"

Kris nodded, reaching out and taking Adam's hand in his just as soon as Adam put it back in range.  Adam squeezed Kris' hand gently and took a deep breath.  He really didn't want to mess it up. 

"I love you, babe, from the bottom of my heart.  I love you more than you'll ever know and nothing means more to me than you," Adam started.  "I've been sitting here beside you since they brought you in and you had me so scared, babe.  It put a lot of things into perspective, things that I've never thought about before and some of them came as a shock to me, but when I thought them over, I realized that it was nothing new.  I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you, that I couldn't keep that bastard from touching you..."

Kris shook his head, voice scratchy as he spoke, "Not your fault." 

Adam didn't feel the same way, but it wasn't worth an argument, "He's dead now and you did that.  I've never been prouder of you, babe.  You did it.  You faced up to him and you killed him.  That was all you, babe, and I'm so proud of you.  He'll never come after you again."  Adam kissed Kris' fingers, holding them close so that Kris could feel Adam's smile against his skin.  "I've never been the most romantic of men."  Kris glared at him but Adam held up a hand, "I don't mean the big gestures or even the small ones.  Until you came along, I didn't believe in romance.  I didn't believe that it was something that could happen to me.  I went from one night stand to one night stand.  I kept my heart locked up tight, but then along came this stubborn little data runner who is the best in the world at cracking down security.  And you sneaked your way into my heart before I even realized it and I wouldn't change that for the world.  I love you so god-damned much.  You're my everything and, so help me, I almost died when you flatlined outside that damned building.  I realized that I couldn't live if I lost you."

Kris propped himself up on an elbow, looking concerned, "I love you too."

"This is twice, Kris," Adam kept his voice low, "I almost lost you twice.  The first time left a hole so deep that I couldn't find a way out until you walked into the club and I didn't know whether to hit you or hug you.  And now this."

Adam took a breath, and let it out slowly.

"There won't be a third time.  I...  I can't do this without you..."  Adam couldn't meet Kris' eyes as he fumbled in his pocket for the box.  It opened easily and Adam held it out to Kris.  "Please.  Marry me?"


End file.
